


Siria Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

by chamberinmyheart



Series: Siria Potter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-06 11:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamberinmyheart/pseuds/chamberinmyheart
Summary: Siria Potter returns to Hogwarts, ready for fights, Howlers, rumors, and the the strange whispers in the walls that no one else seems to hear. How will she handle awkward moments growing up, her gift from life, the warnings of a worried house elf, and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?





	1. The Awkward Drive

**The Awkward Drive**  


Mrs. & Mr. Dursley with their son, Dudley Dursley, of Number Four Privet Drive were quite proud of their level of normal. They were therefore very ashamed of their very not normal niece, who stayed with them one week over the summer holidays. Siria Potter was about as abnormal as one could be. She was a witch, fresh from her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she was even considered abnormal there.  
On the pale forehead of Siria Potter, poking out from her mane of uncontrollably messy jet black hair, was a lightning bolt scar. This scar marked her as strange, for it was from doing the impossible. At the age of one, she had survived the killing curse from the most powerful Dark Wizard, Lord Voldemort. Not only had she lived despite the many others that died, but his curse rebound and hit him.  
Lord Voldemort was the reason Siria Potter sat, on a large brown trunk, with a snowy owl in a cage beside her, at the edge of the driveway of Number Four Privet Drive on the second Sunday morning of summer. He had murdered her parents, but not her Godfather. Siria believed that, as she had been told in Sirius’s last letter, he was on his way to collect her from the Dursleys’ at this very moment. She was, however, a little worried.  
For at least the twelfth time this morning, Siria looked to her watch. Though there were three hands on this watch, none were for seconds. It had two very plain hands, which told the hours and minutes of the moment. The third hand was what was unmistakably the mirror of a wand with tiny engraved runes. This third hand had sat at 2 o’clock since Siria woke up, at five this morning. She knew this third hand to be her Godfather’s location, and knew 2 o’clock to be work.  
Just then, a very flash red coloured Austin Healey Sprite pulled onto the street. What Siria knew of cars, she knew only from what she had heard Uncle Vernon talk about or when she happened to be around while the Dursleys watched the television. This car though, this car she would know anywhere. Though the car’s paint was perfectly and evenly shiny, it didn’t have a single glare from the sun. The Austin Healey Sprite also looked as if it had just been washed and waxed, which Siria would be willing to bet a heap of gallons it had not.  
As much as her aunt, uncle, and cousin were perfectly normal, her Godfather, Sirius Black, was not. Sirius, her namesake, was a wizard. Last year, when Siria had gotten her acceptance letter for Hogwarts and the Dursleys finally realized they could not beat the magic out of her, she had been allowed to live with Sirius. It had only been for the last three weeks of summer, but it had been the best summer of her life. This summer was now on track to be even better.  
The Austin Healey Sprite pulled up beside Siria and parked. Siria was already moving her trunk toward the boot of the car when driver opened their door. She was in shock, but pleased to know her watch wasn’t broken. Though it was Sirius’s car, he had not been driving. A woman with blue and black hair in an asymmetrical bob with the shorter side shaved had stepped out of the car. He had sent Chloe—his “not” girlfriend and “co-worker.”  
“Oh,” Chloe tsked, “that’s quite a glare. He’s got more business at the office.” Siria said nothing. She watched the passenger door with her bright green, almond shaped eyes, as if Sirius were going to open the door and take off an Invisibility Cloak. As Siria had one packed in her trunk, she knew this to be entirely possible. It did not open. “He’s at the office.” Chloe said. She was talking a little slower than before, but, as Chloe talked faster than most people, it was really just a normal pace.  
“Siria, it’s Chloe. Do you remember me?” Chloe took her sleek sunglasses off. “We met last summer. You don’t have to be shy.”  
“What’s the password?” Siria asked in her clearest most controlled tone. She was not about to let anyone know how disappointed she was that it was Chloe and not Sirius. It was a silly thing to be disappointed about, Siria told herself; she would be seeing Sirius soon either way.  
“What’s the password?” Chloe repeated.  
“I can’t tell you.” Siria told her.  
Chloe hung her sunglasses on her shirt and pulled out her phone. It was the newest model—even more thin and sleek than Uncle Vernon’s. She tapped her foot impatiently as it rang, and rang, and rang, and went to voicemail. “This is voicemail of Sirius Black. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call Chloe Causer.” Chloe went on to leave of voicemail of several swear words, some of which Siria had never heard of, and she doubted they conveyed what Chloe really meant.  
“One sec, kiddo.” Chloe smiled and called another number. They answered on the second ring, “Moo—” whatever Chloe was about to say, she awkwardly changed into “Moment… A moment later and I would have killed Sirius—not really!” She snapped at the look on Siria’s face. “Will you please tell that giant git that his goddaughter would like to know what the password is.”  
“I know what it is! Sirius said that even if I knew the person, not go with them unless they told me the password!” Siria shouted so loud, even the person on the phone could hear her clearly.  
There was a quiet, friendly chuckle on the other side of the phone. “Alright.” Chloe crossed one arm and leaned her head on the other, with the phone against her ear. She looked at Siria like the almost twelve year girl was a bomb counting down. “Sorry, what?” Chloe asked the quiet voice on the other end. “Ah-lo-ha-more-a?” Chloe asked. Her brow furrowed so tightly it looked like one line.  
“Does that sound right?” Chloe asked Siria.  
“Hermione would fight you, but it’ll work.” Siria shrugged. Chloe wouldn’t be opening any doors, but she was a Muggle afterall. One couldn’t expect her to get the spell, which probably just sounded like made up rubbish.  
“Great!” Chloe smiled and returned her attention to the person on the phone. “Tell your wanker of a boytoy that I will strangle him, so he better be wearing a scarf from an old line.” Suddenly, going back to Grimmauld Place with Chloe didn’t seem like such a drag. Chloe had given her quite a few questions to ask.  
Out of pure amazement, Chloe sore when she opened the car’s boot. Apparently she had thought the trunk would be too small for Siria’s things and was very pleasantly surprised. They loaded the school trunk into the car, and settled in themselves. Chloe asked if Siria had said goodbye, to cover her laughter, Siria faked a cough. Aunt Petunia had been glaring at them through the curtains the entire time Chloe had been outside, if not before then. Eleven years with the Dursleys had taught her that no words with them were better than any.  
As it was sunny and the weather was fair, Chloe opened the top of the convertible. Once Privet Drive was out of sight, both of them attempted to start conversation.  
“How was school?” Chloe had asked.  
“Are you really not Sirius’s girlfriend?” Siria asked at the same time. They froze for a moment. Siria couldn’t talk about Hogwarts with Chloe. Muggles aren’t supposed to know about Hogwarts. The only reason the Dursleys knew was because that’s where Siria went, and where Siria’s mother, Aunt Petunia’s sister, had gone. Chloe laughed, with shaky confidence.  
“I’m not Sirius’s girlfriend. We work together.” Chloe gave a smile that reminded Siria of a model on a magazine cover, but she wouldn’t be distracted by white teeth.  
“What do you do?” Siria asked.  
“Just boring stuff.” Chloe shrugged and pretended to be very interested in driving.  
“Yeah. You seem less fun than I remember.” Siria sighed. Chloe tsked under her breath. “I mean, your hair last year was way cooler too.”  
“I dyed the orchid to black to be sleeker!”  
“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” Siria shook her head.  
“Shouldn’t you be more interested in bragging about your friends and grades than why I dyed my hair and what boring adult job I do?” Chloe asked. She was no match for Siria.  
“Oh, I get to do plenty of that. Sirius even boasts for me.” Siria hoped aloud. It was true.  
“I have a co-worker that will not shut their face about my hair being too ‘loud’. Look, Siria, what Sirius does for work, for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to tell you. Just trust him to tell you when he’s ready.”  
“I have two very good friends.” Siria told Chloe, very flatly. “Ron was my first friend, and we met on the train. He’s pretty good at chess and likes sports” she had to lie a little. Ron was good at wizard chess, and they had met on the train, but, that Siria knew, he only liked one sport— Quidditch.  
(Book: B2CH1 The Worst Birthday description of the sport, or any book’s description of Quidditch, you’ve so many options)

Muggles weren’t supposed to know about magic, and flying brooms fell into that. Quidditch was a sport, the best sport, and Ron liked it, so Siria would just have to hope it was general enough that Chloe didn’t ask or else to move on too quickly for Chloe to ask. There was so much more to Ron, but, aside from telling Chloe he was already about as tall as his thirteen-year-old brothers, probably fourteen-year-old by now, Siria didn’t trust herself to say more.  
“Hermione and I became friends later. First, I tried to be friends with the other girls in my dorm room. Fay just seemed much more keen to find someone more outdoorsy. Lavender and Parvati really gossip a lot, and they never wanted to go see Hagrid with me. Ron went the very first week of school. Hermione is insanely smart— she’s the smartest in our year. She got top marks in everything. Being so smart and so bossy, no one really wanted to be her friend.  
“Then, on Halloween, we became friends.” Siria knew she couldn’t talk about the troll that almost clobbered them. She didn’t want to talk about how Hermione had been crying because Ron said she didn’t have any friends. That was not magic related, but was very private. “Which is good because Hermione makes us do our homework. Ron is so good at putting things off until the last minute that it had rubbed off on me a bit. Hermione got me back on track to doing my homework once it’s assigned.”  
“Only two friends?” Chloe asked when Siria had fell silent for a moment. “Cute, little thing like you? You’ve got to have a boy or girl, or two.” Chloe winked.  
“I’m about to be twelve— people are mean, and this” Siria pointed to the lightning shaped scar on her forehead “is not helping.” This scar meant completely different things to Siria and Chloe. Chloe believed it meant people were teasing Siria about her scar. Siria meant it made people outside her year and House point and gawk at her, like she was a tentacle of the giant squid in the lake. They weren’t gawking to be mean; they were just trying to get a good look at “The Girl Who Lived.”  
“Sweetie! That is something I can do!” Chloe said with such pride that Siria could not bring herself to ask what “that” was or what Chloe could do. “Okay, so, no cutie you have your eye on?”  
“If I had someone I had my eye on, what would you recommend?” Siria asked. There wasn’t anyone, but she’d know for when there was.  
“Easy! Go get them!” Chloe took a hand off the steering wheel to catch an invisible something. She sighed and returned her hands to the ten-and-two position on the wheel.  
“Siria, if you find someone you feel you like, find out what they like. What sports, hobbies, and classes, and who their friends are. There are times where who a person’s friends are will say a lot about them.” She paused and glared at the traffic ahead of them. “Though, sometimes, bad people have good friends and sometimes good people have bad friends…”  
“Okay, but, why learn that stuff?” Siria asked. It sounded like it didn’t matter in the end.  
“It’s just good to have some common ground to talk about. If you both like football, you can talk about that. If you both like Literature, talk about that. It’s really good if you can trade books.” Chloe confessed.

They could not have made it to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place any slower. Though Chloe had been eager to hear if Siria fancied someone, she didn’t seem to actually want to talk about it. If she did want to talk about it, Chloe had an odd way of showing it. The rest of the drive was rather awkward silence. Siria mostly just looked forward to returning to Grimmauld Place and waiting for Sirius, who remained at 2 o’clock.  
Chloe, who had a key, let them in. She banged Siria’s school trunk into the entryway and took one look to the stairs before letting go. “Sirius can bring it up, when he gets back.” Chloe told Siria. It was all the same. If Sirius had been there, he wouldn’t have carried the trunk up; he hadn’t taught her “Locomotor” for nothing. “Okay. Let’s go.” Chloe told her. Siria just looked at her.  
“What? Do I need another password to take you?” Chloe asked.  
“Unless we’re going to your very boring work, yes.” Siria told her. Chloe opened her mouth. “You’re a terrible liar.” said Siria, and sat down on her trunk.  
“Suit yourself.” Chloe told her. “You’re old enough to be alone, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Great.” Chloe looked to her watch. “I’ll go help Sirius finish the work, and we can all get dinner.”

No sooner had the door locked behind Chloe, Kreacher popped beside Siria. The house elf levitated the trunk up the stairs, and into Siria’s room. His croaky voice muttered under his breath. He seemed even more irritated than last time. She had a pretty good feeling why.  
“Er… Kreacher,” Siria took a deep swelling breath. “Would you like to sit down?” Siria gestured to her orange, cushioned desk chair.  
“No” He croaked then muttered “Half-Blood offers Kreacher a seat. Thinks she can full Kreacher.”  
“Okay… so, last summer, do you remember how I was here?”  
“Yes.” He croaked, followed by “Half-Blood is thinking Kreacher cannot remember.”  
“I, that is. I found your… room?” She decided what he called it was not the point, “and there was a locket.”  
The house elf froze. Kreacher’s usual look of being mentally gone had been replaced with wide eyes of interest. He looked at Siria, not at her feet or something behind her. For the first time, Kreacher looked at the girl of almost twelve with unmanageably messy black hair and bright green eyes.  
“Right, so. I kind of put the locket on,” she paused, expecting to be yelled over, but he was silent. “It’s what made me collapse.” He did not cut in. “So Sirius took it to someone, who…” there really wasn’t any sugar coating it. “The locket is gone. It got magically melted” she thought to add “or something” because she didn’t really know what Dumbledore had done to it. All she knew was that the locket was beyond repair, as there was nothing left of it to repair.  
“The locket is gone?” Kreacher asked. He didn’t sound angry at all. “Mistress and Master have destroyed it?”  
“Y— yes. Um, is there— “ She was going to ask how she could make it up to him, but he was smiling. It was a rather creepy smile, like if someone who had never smiled in their entire life was told to show their biggest smile and they only understood that meant to show all their teeth. Then Kreacher did something Siria had never expected, he hugged her around the legs. His large nose smeared bogies on her jeans and he wept massive tears onto her.  
“Kreacher has tried— Kreacher tried for years! Master Regulus asked Kreacher to destroy the locket, but he could not! If Mistress Siria has fulfilled Master Regulus’s order for Kreacher than Kreacher is forever in her debt!” He sobbed. Hesitantly and very lightly, Siria patted Kreacher on the back. She was not sure if he was relieved or furious.  
Almost two hours later, Siria and Kreacher sat at the dining table with tea. No matter how many times Kreacher thanked her, Siria assured him that it was Sirius and Dumbledore who had destroyed the locket. No matter how much she protested, Kreacher was sure he was in her debt. This became even more true when she offered to make him tea— he had threatened to throw himself down the stairs and she ordered him to never hurt himself on purpose again. She had to settle for Kreacher making the tea, but it was probably better that way.  
Kreacher had just poured her another cup when they heard the lock of the door turn. “Muggle.” Kreacher grumbled and popped away. Siria sighed at the sound of heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Then she ran to the door at the sound a soft sole tapping after the heels. “Sirius!” She shouted and ran right into someone else in the entryway.  
The stranger had hollowed out face and looked rather ill. He had fine age lines along his smile and crows feet in his eyes, which had deep bags beneath them. His brown hair was salted with white strands. Despite his hair, wrinkles, and various scars, something in his air felt like he had gotten these things rather early in life. Something about the stranger was familiar. It was as if she had seen him in passing in the background of a show and he was suddenly centered on the screen. He patted the top of her head, like Sirius had taken to doing.  
“Where is Sirius?” Siria asked the stranger.  
“We’re bringing you to him.” Chloe told her.  
“What’s the password?” Siria asked them. Chloe and the stranger spoke of each other with “Aloe-he-more-ya” and “Ascendio.”  
“What?” Chloe snapped.  
“He got it.” Siria told them. The stranger gave her a soft smile.  
“It was very good of you to ask again. Sirius was hoping you would. I’m Remus Lupin.” and he held out his hand. “Please, call me Remus.” Siria took his hand and shook it.  
“Siria Potter.” She smiled at Remus.  
“Yes. I met you, when you first born. I went to school with James.” He told her, subtly confessing he was more than a Muggle with good spell pronunciation. Remus was a wizard.

From Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the three took a bus to Cheshire Street and to very closed looking boutique. All of its lights were out and there was a sign in the window that read “Closed for Remodel.” It’s name was carved into a very polished piece of hawthorn wood above the shop; written out in curly, glowing green letters, it read “Moony & Padfoot” and Siria’s heart was ready to burst. Remus told her not to worry about the Closed sign because he had a key. Remus, Chloe and Siria entered the boutique and the lights flicked on.  
“Surprise!” Called the room.  
“Sirius!” Siria shouted and charged into her godfather. She wrapped him into a grapple of a hug. He patted her on her head and placed a warm arm around her.  
“I’m sorry I made you wait. I thought you could use some new clothes for summer and school, and thought this would be a good way to surprise you.” He confessed. Siria was just so happy to finally be hugging him. She had just seen him when she was in the Hospital Wing, at the start of June, but felt the time apart had lasted too long. Seeing and hugging Sirius took priority. She had just hugged Hermione a week ago. Siria stopped and looked up at him then to her left.  
Bushy brown hair framed the face of Siria’s classmate, Hermione Granger. Her large front teeth were more pronounced by her ear-to-ear smile. Hermione rocked on the balls of her feet and looked urgently at Siria. She had a rightful look of excitement on her face.  
“Alright,” Sirius prompted, “I missed you too, but we brought Hermione and her parents all the way here. We really ought to get to business.”  
“What are we doing here?” Siria finally asked.  
“Shopping montage!” Chloe shouted. “We’ve got the boutique to ourselves— don’t worry, I’ve got an in with the owners” she spared Sirius a wink, “and I’ve got the latest pop hits.” Chloe put her phone into a speaker and pulled up a playlist, which she put on.  
Shopping montages were something Siria knew by definition and in passing. Dudley always had control of the remote, even if Uncle Vernon wanted to watch the news. She understood them to be a comedic device in romantic-comedies and chick-flicks, and had a very vague memory of seeing one or two. Though she was excited, she didn’t know how to start or express her excitement.  
“Thank you.” Siria murmured, awkwardly at Chloe, while not moving from Sirius’s side.  
“Well, go on.” Sirius gestured to the rest of the boutique.  
“Come on!” Hermione held out her hand and Siria looked at Sirius, who nodded, before she took it. The girls went to the first rack and started rifling through. Sirius smiled to Hermione’s parents and offered them a seat on a bench by the dressing rooms. Mrs. Granger thanked Sirius for inviting them and explained that Hermione mentioned it every day since she got the letter from him. He told them it was nothing and he was very happy they made it up.  
“Sirius,” Siria whispered at his sleeve. He looked down at his goddaughter. She jerked her head for him to come lower. “Can we get Hermione that accessory box?”  
“You two can have whatever you want.” He told her. She gave him a questioning look. Sirius smiled at Remus before his silver eyes flickered back to Siria. “I’m very good friends with one of the owners and he said you two could have the entire boutique, if you want.”  
“That doesn’t sound like good business.” Siria replied. He patted her messy mane of hair.  
“There are empty two racks by the dressing rooms, you and Hermione can each claim one. You two can fill them with things you like and settle on as much as you’re comfortable having.”  
“But we have to wear our uniform at school.”  
“There’s still all of summer and there will be breaks and the weekend.” He urged.  
Part of Siria wanted to fill the rack completely, but a greater part of her felt guilty with each item. All her life, the Dursleys had complained about providing clothes for Siria and those had all been hand-me-downs. Sirius, as the bear of a dog Snuffles, had brought her a dozen or so outfits a year, and she had just received two boxes last year— one on her birthday and another on Christmas. He spoiled her more than Uncle Vernon’s sister spoiled Dudley. Siria appreciated it, but didn’t need to be given the world.  
“Siria, please let us spoil you. Chloe, Remus, and I spent the past week arranging this. It would really mean a lot to us if you went all out. The owners would also appreciate your and Hermione’s opinions. They don’t know a lot of people your age, but love making clothes for them. We’re hoping you could tell us how to make things better and why you like what you do.” Sirius insisted.  
“So it’s okay to fill the racks?” Siria asked.  
“We would all be disappointed if you didn’t.” He assured her. This was finally enough persuasion for her.  
After the racks had been filled and the shopping loaded into bags and boxes, the Grangers insisted on taking everyone to dinner. Chloe, however, had slipped the waiter her card early on and told them “The look on the girls faces is more than enough.” Siria hugged Hermione after dinner. Today had been almost as good as winning the House Cup, and completely worth the awkward drive.


	2. The Worst Present

**The Worst Present**   


On the first floor of Grimmauld Place, by the drawing room turned practice room, Siria slept soundly. She had fallen asleep on the way back, and Sirius had carried her upstairs. The haul of shopping bags and boxes were leaned against the amethyst gentleman’s chest dresser, for the morning. It was just as she had left it at the end of last summer; there were even a few books on the desk, which she didn’t have enough room in her trunk for.  
Tiny twinkling trickles of starish light tumbled from the enchanted chandelier. Its light was soft and gentle. The quiet light radiated a comforting air through the room. For the first night in a week, Siria slept peacefully into morning.  
Everyday until Siria’s birthday, she and Sirius spent practicing spells. Though she still couldn’t do it every time, Siria had managed, on more than one occasion, to produce a shield charm. Sirius had been so proud the first time she succeeded that he didn’t dodge his ricocheted spell, and collapsed to his knees with laughter from his own Tickle Charm. He insisted she still wasn’t ready for learning to turn into an animal, but they had worked on changing her hair color. She could successfully tint her hair, but had yet to completely change the color.  
When noon rolled around on her birthday, Siria sighed and closed the book she had been reading. It was no good. She couldn’t focus. Siria looked at the scarlet and gold sponge painted wall and sighed again. The paint made her heart sink. This was her first birthday with friends, but neither had sent her so much as a single letter. She had written to both of them at least twice since arriving at Grimmauld Place, but hadn’t gotten a reply. Hedwig had seemed distressed after each trip, but Siria supposed they may have shooed the owl away. It would have been uncharacteristic of Ron and Hermione, but maybe they had Muggles around or had been ill… each time.  
Sirius knocked on the already open door, but just leaned in the doorway. He gave her a smile that matched her own: sad and forced. “It’s silly.” She told him, before he could ask what was wrong. “I had just thought that I’d have gotten a letter or something” she confessed. Siria missed Ron and Hermione more than the whole of Hogwarts— more than she missed Quidditch and she missed Quidditch so very deeply. The only person she had ever missed more than Ron and Hermione had been Sirius.  
“You know, I’m sure they wrote. The Weasleys have a very old owl. He may have gotten lost and Hermione doesn’t have an owl.” Sirius pointed out. “Kreacher!” Sirius snapped. The house elf popped into the room. Siria gasped; she was on board.  
“Kreacher,” Siria began, “can you please go see my friend Hermione Granger and ask if she has a letter for me?”  
“You don’t have to ask.” Sirius began, but Kreacher nodded and gave another very toothy smile.  
“Kreacher will go for Mistress.” He patted Siria’s hand. “Kreacher not leave without a letter.”  
“You don’t have to go that far.” She insisted. “I just— I’d appreciate it if you asked if she happened to have anything for me.” Kreacher nodded and popped away.  
“He knows to listen to you; you don’t have to ask so nicely.” Sirius told her.  
“I think you ought to ask nicer. Kreacher really loves your family. He cried about your brother’s death until…” Siria drew out the “L” for as long as her breath would allow, but couldn’t think of how to finish the sentence untruthfully. Kreacher had asked that she not tell Sirius, or anyone else, what Regulus had done. Sirius watched her, expectantly. “He accepted it?” She told him in a very questioning tone.  
Before Sirius could ask, Siria added “Can we call Ron?”  
“Not in a traditional sense, but yes.” He told her. They went down to the fireplace. Sirius told her “Stay calm; it won’t hurt me at all.” Then he sprinkled some glittering powder into the flames, which turned green. Siria covered her mouth to stop her scream escaping when Sirius stuck his head into the fire. He had told her it wouldn’t hurt and, from the rise and fall of his shirt, he was still breathing. She knelt beside him and waited until he pulled his head out.  
“See.” Sirius told her, “their batty, old owl lost the letters.” He mumbled something about an early present before getting up from the floor. “They’re insisting we come for dinner. Molly and Ron were both rather upset to hear you hadn’t received your gift or any of Ron’s replies. Apparently, he’s asked if you can stay at the Burrow and Molly thought I was pretending not to get them, so I wouldn’t have to tell you ‘no.’” He tsked. “Everyone acts like I do nothing but spoil you.”  
“To be fair, if I asked, I’m pretty sure you’d buy me a new broom.” Siria defended.  
“Do you want a new broom?” He asked.  
“What?” She replied.  
“No! My broom is fine, but…” she remembered that, when she had gotten her Nimbus Two Thousand Ron, had been as excited as she was. He said that all of his family’s brooms were old and that they still had a Shooting Star, which Ron said was slower than a butterfly. “Could we stop by Diagon Alley before dinner? If it isn’t too much trouble, I want to get Ron a broom.”  
“Do you know expensive brooms are?” Sirius asked.  
“Not so much that you didn’t consider getting me one, even though I have a very good one.”  
“You can’t get Ron a broom. That wouldn’t be fair to his brothers.” Sirius told her. Siria shrugged.  
“Getting George and Fred brooms would help the Quidditch team and they did try to save me last year.” She pointed out.  
Sirius took a seat at the dining table. He pulled out the chair next to him and had Siria sit down. For a moment, they were quiet. Kind grey watched the stubborn green eyes stare back. Snuffles had been the only one Siria had ever been able to give gifts to. There was a time when she tried to give gifts to the Dursleys, but she always found them when she took out the trash. Sirius, however, had kept every doggy bandana and handmade cloth collar Siria had made him. Even though his replies had been short, Siria would have bet he had kept the letters she wrote over the school year too.  
On the train to school, Ron and Siria had bonded over hand-me-downs and being poor. If not for the money her parents had left her and her godfather, she wouldn’t even have nice things at school. Ron was the second youngest of seven and didn’t have a wealthy godfather, that Siria knew anyway. Fred and George were Beaters on the Gryffindor team and had kept Siria safe in matches. When her boom was jinxed and tried to throw her off, George had circled as close as he could under her while Fred circled a little lower so he could catch her if she slipped past George.  
Hermione had gotten to enjoy the benefits of Sirius’s contacts and had received more clothes than she felt comfortable accepting. Siria was more than happy to buy the three boys brooms, though she did hope to at least get Ron one. First years weren’t allowed brooms, but they would be second years now. He could come out and fly with her after practice. If she did get to stay over for awhile, they could all fly together.  
“Okay.” Sirius sighed. “You seem rather determined to do this, but rationing your money is important. Do you know how many Knuts in a Galleon?”  
“Well, there’s twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle and seventeen Sickles in a Galleon so… can I have a piece of paper?” She asked. Sirius flicked his wand and, much to Siria’s relief, he summoned a notebook of actual paper and a pen, rather than parchment and a quill. “Four-hundred ninety-three Knuts in a Galleon.”  
“How many pounds in a Galleon?” Sirius asked.  
“I didn’t know you could convert pounds to Galleons.” She confessed.  
“How else would Muggle borns afford books?” Siria just shrugged. “Okay. There are about five pounds to a Galleon. If you made £23,000 a year, how many months would you have to work to buy a broom that cost 500 Galleons.” Siria just looked at him. She hated word problems. No one told her being a witch would involve math. If anything, with magic being to magical it seemed like anti-math. Then, Siria tsked. With how specific some spells were about how you swished and flicked your wand, she was surprised there wasn’t a class dedicated to it.  
Sirius wrote his question out on the paper and waited. Siria would occasionally look up at him, to see if she was doing the problem correctly, but he just kept a soft, unreadable smile in place. She would look back at the paper with more determination. Siria told herself that once she solved the problem and convinced Sirius that, even if she had to work for a whole year, she would still want to get Ron a broom. Kreacher appeared with a letter from Hermione and tried to help Siria solve the problem, so she could read the letter sooner. Sirius, however, ordered him to make her do it on her on. Things were probably better that way because Kreacher didn’t understand Muggle money or multiplication.   
Finally, Siria came to the answer of one and a half months, which she circled and looked to Sirius, expectantly. Calmly and clearly, he asked her “Would you still do it?”  
“Well, while I was working, I decided that I’d want to buy Ron a broom, even if it meant I had to work for an entire year. Since I know I only have to work for a month and a half, I want to buy brooms for George and Fred too.” She confessed. Sirius sighed, but it wasn’t a tired sigh. It was a rather content sigh.  
“Molly is going to protest.” Sirius told her.  
“Can you return broomsticks?”  
“Nope.” He smirked at her.  
“Then she’ll have to accept. What are we going to do with three brooms and my Nimbus?”

More than once while Siria and Sirius were at Diagon Alley, she felt like they were being watched. This was probably true, as the lightning scar on her forehead was well known in the wizarding world. Once though, she thought she saw a giant pair of green eyes watching from a side alley. When she walked toward it, there was a pop and the green eyes vanished.  
As Sirius didn’t know how to get to the Weasley’s by car, they would be taking the Knight Bus. “We could Apparate, but I don’t want to risk it with the brooms.” Sirius told her. He explained the Knight Bus is around to help people that are stranded, underage, or unable or unwilling to Apparate. They loaded the three brooms, an additional two boxes, and her Nimbus Two Thousand into their arms and climbed down the stairs from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Just as Sirius had told her, Siria held out her wandless right hand and jumped back.  
In the blink of an eye, a giant triple deck bus popped out in front of them.  
(Book 3: Knight Bus, Stan & Ernie Description)

Sirius paid Stan and they sat down at the first available two chairs. “Remember to hold onto your chair and the brooms.” Sirius noted and not a moment too soon. She had barely managed to put a hand on the back of the chair when the bus seemed to jump forward. Her chair flew toward the back of the bus and took her with it. Sirius seemed rather used to the way the bus threw them around.  
CRACK. They were somewhere covered in snow and the Knight Bus rolled over a hill. Once that passenger was off— CRACK! They were back in London, but only until the passenger was off. Siria’s stomach flipped as she thrown forward and backward. She tried to close her eyes and tell herself she was flying, but there was far too much back and forth. Siria also doubted that she’d be able to fly her broom so diagonally to her right without turning that way.  
When she finally stepped onto the ground, Siria’s knees buckled slightly under her. Sirius caught her by the arm and they managed not to drop anything. He pulled her properly onto her feet then patted her head. “You’re a little disheveled, but I think Molly will find it endearing.” Sirius confessed.  
“Oi, Siria!” George called. He was running up the path toward them. “Welcome to The Burrow” he told them and opened the low gate of the wooden fence.  
(Book 2: The Burrow Description)  
“Where’s Ron?’ Siria asked as George led them toward the house.  
“He’s helping mum,” but George dropped his voice and whispered low. “Mum says that if you stay over, you have to stay with Ginny, but he thinks it’d be weird for you to share her room because you don’t know her.” Siria nodded to show she heard. She kind of agreed with Ron. Ginny was one of the three Weasley siblings that Siria hadn’t met yet.  
“How is everyone?” Siria asked, trying to be casual.  
“Good, good. Percy’s been pretty weird this summer. He’s hardly left his room— thank goodness.” George told her.  
“Ron!” Siria jerked forward to rush to him, but immediately realised she couldn’t run with the brooms. She had to walk sideways through the door, with Sirius after her.  
“Ron!” Mrs. Weasley called, “help her!”  
“Right!” Ron nodded and Siria rolled the brooms into Ron’s arms. She pulled her Nimbus from the pile and placed it by the door.  
“What’s with all the brooms?” He asked her. Siria looked to Sirius, who rolled his wrist for her to continue. She tsked, but looked to Ron with conviction.  
“Sirius said you, Fred, and George have to agree that ‘this counts as your Christmas and birthday presents for the next two years,’ but they’re for you— hey!” Siria threw her arms under Ron’s to catch the brooms.  
“Y— you got _me_ a broom?” He stammered.  
“And us!” Fred asked.  
“Nonsense” said Mrs. Weasley. “We can’t accept them,” she told Siria.  
“I’m sorry Siria, but I did tell you.” Sirius winked the eye Molly couldn’t see.  
“Oh.” Siria pouted as convincingly as she could and looked at the brooms. “That’s going to be really awkward then. I can’t return them, and I can’t ride them either.”  
“Of course you can, dear.” Mrs. Weasley told her. Siria rolled one of the handles to face Mrs. Weasley. In the same gold that read Nimbus Two Thousand were two letters: F. W. “You had them engraved.” For a woman that had looked so kind a moment ago, Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to blow fire on Sirius. There were sparks in her eyes. Sirius held up his hands in quiet surrender, and knew that, no matter how flustered Molly was about the gifts, she would let the boys accept them.  
With a tsk under her breath, Mrs. Weasley resigned. Fred and George each rushed to look at the brooms and thank Siria. Ron was still in shock. He repeated “you got me a broom,” in a murmur when Siria put the broom with “R.W.” in his hand. A blush so red he almost matched his hair, colored his face.  
Inside the boxes Sirius had brought were a few other gifts. One box was full of Moony & Padfoot clothes for Ginny, with three sets of plain, black wizard robes for school. He’d gotten Percy a book titled So You Got Too Many O.W.L.s, which he confessed was Remus’s idea. The rest of the second box was a mix of what he called “Wizarding house must haves,” like the powder he used to make the flames green when he put his head in, soap, and various potion supplies. Mrs. Weasley refused four times before Fred and George finally said they’d take the box if she didn’t. The twins also seemed rather excited about Ginny’s box of clothes and whispered about it over dinner.  
Dinner with the Weasleys was far more lively than dinner with the Grangers, Remus, and Chloe. Mr. Weasley arrived part way through and had been left as speechless as Ron about the brooms. He then questioned Siria about everything she knew about Muggle transportation until Sirius took over answering. As he worked with Chloe, Sirius probably had to deal with Muggle transportation often.  
After dinner, Siria went to wash up and returned horrified. “Alright dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Siria nodded as quickly as she possibly could and rushed to Sirius’s side. Mr. Weasley tried to wave her to the chair beside him. “Oh, I have to ask Sirius something.” Siria’s teeth chattered. Sirius’s brow furrowed, as it did when he worried. She leaned into his ear and whispered. He exhaled with relief, but almost immediately jumped to his feet.  
“We just need to see Molly for a moment.” Sirius told them and ushered Siria back into the kitchen. “Molly,” Sirius interrupted. Ginny bolted out of the room. “Siria has started” and he gave one slow nod.  
“Her first?” Mrs. Weasley asked, “no wonder you looked so pale. It’s nothing to worry about, dear.” Mrs. Weasley and Sirius then gave Siria the most uncomfortable conversation of her life. She would have rathered Chloe asking Siria if she liked anyone another twenty times than be told what she was hearing. How was she supposed to stay over now?  
“It’s so funny it happened on your birthday. That really is the worst present your body could give you.” Mrs. Weasley confessed. Siria was thankful for the honesty and inclined to agree. It was worse than the time the Dursleys had given her a box of used, mixed batteries.  
Her first “red week” when she had only known them in passing, was terrible and made her stomach ache, which Mrs. Weasley assured her was perfectly normal.

Despite her new _condition_ , the Weasleys were eager to have Siria for part of the summer. Begrudgingly, Sirius had agreed that she could stay the coming week, they could meet at Diagon Alley, shop for school supplies together, and Siria could spend the rest of the summer back with him.   
Once she was all packed, Sirius took her to the bathroom. At first, she had thought it was odd he told her to wear shorts and was wearing a pair as well, but, when he pulled out a razor, she understood. “Have you ever shaved your legs?” Siria asked.  
“Can’t be that hard.” He told her. He was wrong. Sirius was so very wrong. It wasn’t until he cut himself for the fifth time he finally stopped. “So, Molly may or may not have offered and I may have told her I’d show you. I vote, we call Chloe and act like this didn’t happen.” Siria felt this was fair.  
“Good evening you very hardworking…. Worker.” Sirius called Chloe. Siria put her face in her hands. “Right, so Siria has just started her first period” he practically whispered the word “and I was hoping you’d show her how to shave…. Nope, just shave… that is possible… no; it went rather poorly… I only cut myself five times… we figured out the water thing after the second cut.  
“Okay!” Sirius hung up. “Chloe is stopping by the store then will be over to show us.”  
“Us?”  
“I’m not going to make you learn alone. What if you have questions?”  
“I mean, I kind of already have questions.” She confessed. Sirius looked terrified and unprepared. “I mean, all this stuff happens to girls, but what happens to boys?” He let out a breath of relief.  
“I can answer those.” He told her.  
“Okay, and is this why Chloe was asking me if I liked somebody?”  
“Do you like somebody?” He asked. Siria shrugged.  
“I don’t think I have anyone I like that way right now.”  
“Do you want to talk about a time when you did like someone?” Sirius asked. He pretended to be very interested in the shower tap. “It’s okay if you do.”  
“I mean, I haven’t really liked anyone before, but anyone I found cute, I told Snuffles about.” She noted.  
“That’s true, but, if ever you do want to talk, even if we’ve spoken about it before, I’m here.”  
“Thanks.” She told him, but kept her eyes on the small puddle of water in the tub.  
Chloe arrived with a bag of goods for the night and school year. She went over how to wet the razor and leg. Then she covered how to use shaving gel and hair removing creams. “Remember, if you have a cut, do not use the cream; if you use the cream, pay attention to the time.” She then helped Siria shave one leg and use cream on the other, so she could compare.  
“Now then,” and Chloe pulled out what was unmistakably a sanitary napkin and a tampon. “No!” Siria cried repeatedly over Chloe as she tried to explain them. “Mrs. Weasley already told me!”  
“So you know how to— “  
“Yes!” Siria shouted as Chloe popped the tube between her fingers. “Stop! Please!”  
“You don’t have to be so shy.” Chloe told her with a laugh.  
“I’m fine!” Siria insisted and took to trying to push Chloe out of the bathroom.  
“Thank you, again.” Siria told Chloe. Chloe smiled,  
“Of course. Happy Birthday kiddo, one rough present though.” Chloe tsked. Siria was starting to feel like this was an understatement. No one had named a single good thing that would come from this. So far, it had only triggered awkward moments. Mrs. Weasley and Chloe seemed to be fine, despite having this happen to them for years, so Siria was sure she’d be okay. It was just such an unfortunate time to start.


	3. Dobby’s Warning

**Dobby’s Warning**   


In the morning, Sirius was in the dining room reading the paper when Siria woke. Kreacher had made bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast. Sirius wanted to protest when Siria invited Kreacher to join them, but the house elf, much to his own surprise, accepted. The three had a quiet morning going over what they would do when they returned from Diagon Alley.  
“Now, remember: no magic unless Molly specifically tells you it’s okay, and where are we meeting at Diagon Alley?” Sirius asked.  
“Everyone is meeting at Gringotts; if we get separated, unless decided by the group, after meeting up, we return to Gringotts because it’s the tallest building.” Siria let out a slightly annoyed sigh. She wasn’t a child anymore and wouldn’t be getting lost.  
“The new password is Arania Exumai” he told her.  
“But I don’t know that one.” She confessed.  
“I know. You didn’t know Ascendio, until we used it, either. Arania Exumai is used on spiders. Just point at the spider and cast.” He instructed.  
“Are you using passwords to teach me spells? ‘Cause I already knew Alohomora.”  
“I picked Alohomora because you knew it, but I’m thinking it’s a good way to teach you instead.” Sirius confessed.  
“Oh, and always ask Remus.” At the look on Siria’s face, he quickly added “he’s helping me make sure that you get into the habit.”  
“But why?” Siria asked him. She didn’t know anyone else her age that used passwords or safe words, not that she knew many people her age. Hermione said it made sense for Siria to need one, but didn’t explain why.  
“Well, you’re famous and, despite what some people will have you believe, there are still Dark Witches and Wizards out there. I ought to know, I come from a family of them.”  
“But Regulus— “ Siria stopped when she saw Kreacher’s face “is gone.”  
“Tell you what, I’ll fish out the family tapestry, and show you when you get back on Wednesday.”  
“I’ll hold you to it.” She grinned. He sighed at her.  
“A week…”

With a duffle bag of clothes, snacks, and knick-knacks on her shoulder, Siria took hold of Sirius’s hand. She took a deep, swelling breath and braced herself. Sirius had described Apparating as one of his least favorite things, so she didn’t see any reason she could like it. Kreacher took her other hand. There was a crack and Siria felt like she flying faster than she’d even ridden on a broom, but through a hamster tube. Fortunately, it didn’t last long. A moment and then she stumbled forward a few paces and fell on the ground.  
“I don’t feel good.” She confessed as her stomach struggled to catch up with her.  
“That does happen sometimes. It’s okay if you have to throw up.” He patted her on the back. Siria shook her head and got to her feet. Mostly, she just felt rattled and relieved she didn’t feel like she was being squeezed anymore.  
“Do you want me to go in with you two?” Sirius asked at the gate of the Burrow. She looked at him like he had to be joking. “I just figured I’d ask.” He told her. “See you at Gringotts.” He promised. Siria hugged him and repeated “See you at Gringotts.” For as excited as she was to get to spend a week with the Weasleys, she was sorry to leave Sirius alone.  
Kreacher took Siria’s hand and led her toward the Burrow. When she looked over her shoulder, he was still standing at the gate, watching and waving at her. She waved back then knocked. “Please, be nice.” Siria requested of Kreacher. Sirius had insisted that Kreacher would be much more use to Molly for the week than at Grimmauld Place.   
Mrs. Weasley opened the door and pulled Siria into a back cracking hug. “So good to see you dear,” she placed a kiss on Siria’s forehead. “Oh, he had the house elf bring you?”  
“Yeah. This is Kreacher.” Siria jerked her head.  
“Kreacher is pleased to be meeting the mother of Mistress Siria’s friend.” He said in his most croaking bullfrog voice. Kreacher didn’t look at Mrs. Weasley.  
“Sirius said that Kreacher ought to help out for the time I’m here, or else he’ll have nothing to do.” She had added on the last part rather quickly after almost forgetting it. Sirius had expressed that the only way Mrs. Weasley would accept Kreacher, even for a day, was if she knew that Sirius wasn’t being inconvenienced.  
“Oh, we couldn’t.” Mrs. Weasley protested.  
“Mistress’s friend’s mother does not think Kreacher is a good house elf.” His head drooped.  
“Nonsense. I’m just sure Sirius needs him.” Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly.  
“But Sirius is working all week. Kreacher would be all alone in the house.” Siria cupped her hand and whispered “Sirius thinks he’s grown attached to me.”  
“Oh. I suppose, if Sirius really doesn’t mind, we may be able to use a hand or two.”  
Siria wanted to dance in victory. Kreacher, though not eager to serve what he had been calling a family of blood-traitors for years, was happy to serve Siria in this. If it was what made her happy, he would get happiness from it.  
“I’m just making breakfast.” Mrs. Weasley told them.  
“We can help!” Siria jumped to the occasion.  
“Oh, that’s nice of you dear, but it’s alright.”  
“We’re very good at making breakfast— my aunt and uncle make me mind the bacon all the time. I’m very good at making crispy, but not burned.” Siria boasted, “and Kreacher is very good at making eggs.”  
“Thank you, but, if it isn’t any trouble dear, I was hoping he may do the ironing.”  
“Kreacher can totally iron, can’t you?” Siria turned to the house elf. Ever since Siria managed to shrink one of Uncle Vernon’s best dress shirts down to a child’s size, she hadn’t been made to iron anything again. Kreacher nodded.  
“Kreacher can do the blo—” Siria and Kreacher knew where he was headed, but he caught himself. In a poor transition that rivaled Siria, Kreacher changed to “bloodiful mother’s laundry.”   
“He means ‘beautiful’,” Siria laughed.  
“That is what Kreacher said.” Kreacher told them.  
Kreacher took to ironing. Siria took to leaning against a kitchen counter and trying to help, but not knowing how. Mrs. Weasley was a very efficient cook, which Siria supposed she had to be with seven children. Aunt Petunia couldn’t have done better, even if she bossed Siria around the whole time.  
One of Mrs. Weasley’s clocks chimed to “time to feed the chickens,” and Siria stepped up. “I can feed them!” Siria insisted, until Mrs. Weasley conceded. Siria took the bucket of feed out and into the yard. The chickens seemed to know what was up because they came out of their coop to peck her for food. She was starting to sprinkle the feed when there was the unmistakable crack of Apparating.  
Before Siria stood a small creature with large, tennis ball-like eyes and batty ears. It looked similar to Kreacher, but was much thinner and a little shorter. Their skin was more blue than grey. Unlike Kreacher’s large nose, it had a long, thin one.   
“Hi,” she smiled at what she was certain was a house elf.  
“Siria Potter!” the very high pitched voice squeaked, “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, miss… Such an honor it is…” (B2, 12)  
“Oh, um, thank you. It’s very nice to meet you…”  
“Dobby! Dobby the house elf,” and the elf gave her such a very low bow that its’ long nose touched the ground.  
“It’s very nice to meet you Dobby. Are you Ron’s family’s house elf?”  
“Oh, no.”  
“Oh? Does Sirius have two?” She asked.  
“Dobby does not know if Master Black is having any elf aside Kreacher.” Dobby confessed.  
“Dobby, if I may, what brought you to the Burrow then?” Siria asked.  
“Dobby is here… it is difficult to say…” His eyes flittered around the Weasley’s yard.  
“Would you like to come in? Mrs. Weasley is— “ Siria was going to say that she was very nice, but Dobby burst into loud bellowing cries and tears. On the first tall thing in sight, Siria put the chicken feed bucket down and knelt beside Dobby.  
“Dobby, I am so sorry. Kreacher sits with us at breakfast, so I— I thought it was okay. You don’t have to sit down. I didn’t meant to hurt your feelings.”  
“Hurt Dobby’s feelings?” The house elf cried, “Dobby had heard of your greatness, but of your kindness, miss— “ he choked under a sob. Siria patted him, as gently as she could, on the back.  
Last summer, Sirius had told her about how poorly some house elves are treated. The only good thing Kreacher had ever said about Sirius, even after confiding in Siria about Regulus, was that he “never orders Kreacher punishments.” Despite how much Kreacher had loved the late Mrs. Black, she would sometimes order Kreacher to throw himself down the stairs or touch the buring stove top with his bare hand. Regulus and Sirius had never and would never do such a thing. Siria supposed that Dobby’s family may be like the late Mrs. Black.  
“Dobby, why did you wait until I was at the Burrow?” Siria asked. There had to have been better times to talk to her than when she happened to come out to feed the chickens.  
“Dobby tried to come earlier, but Dobby had too much work when Siria Potter was with the Muggles. Dobby could not get away to” he then dropped his voice into a whisper “warn you.”  
“To warn me?”  
“Yes. Dobby tried to find Siria Potter at Master Sirius Black’s, but could not find it. Then, then Dobby sees Siria Potter at Diagon Alley. Dobby tries to talk with you there, miss, but Master Sirius Black is not leaving your side.” The house elf confessed.  
“Dobby, what do you need to warn me about?” Siria asked. It was all well and good that he had tried to tell her sooner, but what was he warning her of? Had Voldemort taken over another teacher’s body? Was it actually Snape this time?  
“Siria Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.” Dobby told her. Siria stopped. She blinked her green eyes into those of the house elf. “You cannot.”  
“I have to!”  
“Please, Siria Potter!” Dobby took hold on her sleeve and tugged. His large green eyes pleaded with her.  
(Book 2: pg 16-17 with the plot for something terrible to happen at Hogwarts, that does not involve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or his non-existent brother. Dobby agrees Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster, but there are things no decent wizard has.)

“Dobby, I have to go. Hogwarts is my home. Sirius is fine having me for summer and holidays, but… but I can’t push it, Dobby. I have to go. Ron and Hermione will be there.” Siria protested. She couldn’t miss out on her second year, even if there was a plot for something wicked. If anything, now that she knew something may happen, Siria had to go. She would have to tell Dumbledore and she may even be needed, like with the Sorcerer’s Stone.  
“I appreciated you coming all this way to warn me, and I promise to be on my guard, but my friends are expecting me.” She told him.  
“Friends that don’t write to Siria Potter.”  
“Well, they tried…” Siria trailed off. She rose to her full height, which was just shorter than average for her age, but still much taller than a house elf. “Why do you think they haven’t written?”  
“Siria Potter must not be angry with Dobby.” He reached into his pillowcase and withdrew a small stack of letters. “Dobby was not expecting Siria Potter to come to her friend’s house. Dobby was hoping to stop Siria Potter so she would not go to Hogwarts.”  
“Siria Potter will not be angry with Dobby, if Dobby gives her the letters,” Siria told him and extended her hand for them. Dobby pulled the letters close to him.  
“Siria Potter must promise not to go back to Hogwarts.”  
“I will do no such thing.” She crossed her arms and held her head stubbornly into the air. “I want the letters, but I need to go back. If you’d gotten me at the Dursleys, you may have stood a chance.” Siria shook her head, “but I’m at the Burrow— I’m in the wizarding world. Dobby, this is where I belong.”  
Siria knelt down until her eyes were level with Dobby’s. “I know I can’t order you, but I really do hope you will not punish yourself.” She looked to the various bruise spots on the elf’s limbs. His left knee had been bandaged up recently, but red was already seeping through the wrapping. She reminded herself that Sirius said a house elf can only be freed by the family they serve, and she was not that family. “I don’t suppose if I give you my shirt or something, that’d be enough?”  
Dobby shook his head so quickly that his large, batty ears flopped around. His giant tennis ball eyes blinked back their tears. “Is there really nothing Dobby can do to make Siria Potter promise not to go back to Hogwarts?” the high voice asked.  
“I’m sorry, Dobby.”  
There was a quick CRACK sound and Kreacher appeared, which triggered another CRACK, and Dobby was gone. Kreacher glared at the spot Dobby had been standing just a blink ago. His croaking voice asked Siria, “Why was the Malfoy elf here?”  
“Malfoy?” Siria cried. It felt like her blood was boiling. “That little prat made Dobby steal my letters and lie to me!” She shook her fist and Kreacher took an uncertain step away. Her anger evaporated. “Oh, Kreacher. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you or Dobby. Malfoy’s just a giant git, and, one of these days, I’m going to get him for it.” Her heart sank at the thought of the punishment that was probably awaiting Dobby at home.  
“Mistress,” Kreacher took Siria’s hand. “Breakfast is ready. Mistress has been gone awhile.” Siria picked up the bucket of remaining feed, sprinkled some extra down for the chickens, and followed Kreacher back, her head weighed down with the thought of Dobby.


	4. The Burrow & At Flourish and Blotts

**The Burrow & At Flourish and Blotts **   


Breakfast at the Burrow was just as lively as dinner. Ginny had stepped down for the shortest moment, squealed at the sight of Siria, and ran back upstairs. Mrs. Weasley added eggs and bacon to Siria’s plate any time she passed. Mr. Weasley had a never ending stream of questions for Siria, all about Muggle related things. He worked in the department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry.  
(Book 2: parts of 33-46 such as Mrs. Weasley fussing over Siria, the de-gnoming, Ginny being so clumsy it hurts, getting the school list [which is so full of Lockhart], and Siria loving the Burrow)  
With their brooms over their shoulders, Fred, George, Ron, and Siria headed to the small paddock the Weasleys owned. “We just gotta fly below the trees,” Fred told her.  
“Can’t risk the people in the village seeing,” George reminded her.  
“I still can’t believe you got me a broom,” Ron confessed. “I’m not on the Quidditch team or anything, like Fred and George.”  
“We’re second years now, so, if a spot opens up, you can try out.” She told him.  
A mischievous smirk crossed Siria’s lips. She added, in a low tone, “and think of all the fun we’ll have.” Fresh off a week of new stories from Sirius’s and her father’s school days, Siria was tempted to sneak out of Gryffindor tower and into the Forbidden Forest on their first night back. Hermione would be their greatest obstacle because, though she had gotten a bit more lax on the rules, she still loved them.   
“We can’t use real Quidditch balls” George noted,  
“Couldn’t explain if they escaped,” Fred explained,  
“So we tend to use apples” George quipped.  
“Sirius lent me a Quaffle,” Siria told them. She placed her duffle on the grassy ground of the paddock, which she opened to reveal a red, leather ball. “Can’t get anywhere on its own and all.” She smiled.  
“But none of you are Chasers.” Ron pointed out. Siria shook her finger,  
“The Quaffle isn’t about being a Chaser; it’s about teamwork.” She instructed. “I’m fine throwing apples at each other, later. Sirius would be really disappointed to hear we didn’t give it a try.” She told them as she mounted her broom, the Quaffle under her arm. They all kicked off, but only flew a few feet into the air.  
“Why?” Ron asked.  
“It was in one of his books.” She told him and chucked the Quaffle at Fred. He caught it.  
“On Quidditch?” He asked and threw to George.  
“Parenting.” She told them. George threw to Ron, who caught it and threw to Siria.  
“I didn’t know they made books on that.” Ron confessed as he caught her return throw.  
“I think they make books on everything.” Siria noted.  
“Enough books,” Fred groaned as he caught and threw to Siria.  
“I feel like we’re in class.” George agreed as he caught and threw to Fred.  
Whether throwing the Quaffle built teamwork or not, they couldn’t say. After Ron missed catching it twice, they took to racing around the paddock to see who could lap the fastest. Despite riding the same broom, Siria did have a year’s more experience on it. Once she won twice, Fred called foul.  
“You’re smaller, of course you’re quicker.” He told her.  
“Your our Seeker, so I’m glad you are.” said George.  
“But it is hardly fair,” Fred added.  
“We could see who’s better at beating apples, but I only have a cricket bat.” Siria told them.  
“A what?” Ron asked. Siria flew to her bag and seemed to glide off her broom more than step off. She dug to the bottom of the bag and pulled out a worn, old cricket bat. The handle of the bat was duct taped up to the splice. For some reason, even though Dudley broke every cricket bat his parents got him, he got another. One birthday, Siria had received this particular bat from the pile of broken ones.  
“It’s huge.” said George. Siria shrugged,  
“And what else do you reckon we use?” She asked.  
“It’ll be way easier!” Ron told them. Despite being larger than a Bludger bat, it was impossible to send the apples where you wanted them to go. This had more to do with the apples than the bat. No matter how hard the apple was, once it hit the bat, it splattered to pieces. Finally, Siria struck the wrong apple just poorly enough that it burst on the bat and splattered all over her.  
“My bad.” George apologized.  
“Apple’s bad, really.” Fred told him. Siria wiped the splattered apple off her face.  
“You’re the worst.” Siria grumbled at George.  
“I didn’t mean it— could have happened to anyone.” He defended.  
“I know.” She handed the bat to Ron and opened her bag.  
“Do you have a survival kit in there?” Ron asked.  
“Or a bottomless charm?” Fred asked. She rolled her eyes at them and pulled out a small face towel.  
“That’s adorable.” George smiled at the baby blue towel covered in cartoon paw prints.  
“Don’t be a hater,” Siria couldn’t keep the growing smile off her face as she wiped herself down. It didn’t take the smell off. “That was such a bad apple.” She scoffed.  
“Worse than us?” George asked.  
“You don’t look like a bad apple.” Siria grinned.  
“You clearly haven’t met our mother.” sighed Fred.

Everyday they practiced at the paddock until it got too dark to see and Kreacher came for them. Though everyone had gotten better at passing the Quaffle around, Siria remained racing champion of the paddock. After the initial disgust of being covered in splattered rotten apple, they made a game of mixing one bad apple into a bunch with nine good ones. As they smashed the good ones, the tension of hitting a rotten one would build. It mostly resulted in a lot of wincing whenever they swung at the apple, and laughing from relief when someone else hit the rotten one.  
Her week with the Weasleys had been amazing. The Burrow was so lively and magical. There was never a moment of silence, except when everyone else slept. Siria found sleeping to be the only thing that wasn’t natural and lively. Ginny hadn’t said a single word to Siria the entire time. Not when Siria apologized for taking one of the beds, not when Siria invited her to join them in the paddock, not when Siria asked if Ginny had liked the clothes Sirius gave her— not a single word. She would give a single, frantic nod or shake of her head before bolting out of the room or hiding under her comforter, even if they’d just gotten up for breakfast.  
Maybe Ron could stay at Grimmauld Place next summer. Siria had never gone above the floor her room was on, but there was at least one more floor, where Sirius slept. If they kept the door open and Hermione came too, maybe they could all stay in her room. Sirius might be able to persuade Mrs. Weasley that Ginny didn’t like Siria; it couldn’t be hard. Ginny could hardly stand to be at the same table, even when they sat on opposite ends.

(Book 2: pg 47, “Mrs. Weasley woke them…” paragraph about the floo powder being handed to Siria)  
“We’ll have to thank your father again,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. Siria’s face flushed.  
“G— got father— godfather!” Siria stammered. “He’s my godfather.”   
“Of course,” Mrs. Weasley beamed at her and held out the pot. It looked like the same green powder Sirius had used when he stuck his head in.  
“Um, am I calling Sirius?” She asked.  
(Book 2: pg 47-53 Ron apologizes because of course she’s never used it before and he’s super understanding that she doesn’t know. Floo powder and Borgin & Burkes. Malfoy says everyone thinks Siria’s “so smart, wonderful Potter with her scar and her broomstick” & Lucious tells Draco that he’s been told so “at least a dozen times”)

As much as Siria wanted to burst out of the cabinet and give Malfoy a piece of her mind, she didn’t want to be found by him even more. Her nose stung, her clothes were dirty, and she was in a shop full of dark magic items. Even worse, his father was there and she hadn’t like his father since they first met last year.   
Siria held her breath and pushed herself further into the corner of the cabinet, as if she could disappear into it. Her broken glasses made it difficult to see where Malfoy was looking. She could only see where he was facing— toward the cabinet she was hiding in. His hand touched the handle. Siria recoiled further. Sirius would find her or Kreacher would. Could she call Kreacher? The door started to part more her heart froze, and she pushed her chin to her chest.  
“Come, Draco” Mr. Malfoy called. Siria had to cover her mouth to prevent the sigh from escaping. With all of them gone, Siria felt strangely alone, as if their company hadn’t really been as awful as she had felt when they were there. It was as if she had a friend among them, but Malfoy very clearly wasn’t her friend anymore.  
(Book 2: pg 53-55, she gets out, Hagrid finds her, and she sees Hermione through Mr. Weasley fixing Siria’s glasses.)

“Siria!” Sirius shouted and swept her off her feet. He hugged her so tightly Siria had to pound on his back for him to let go and let her breathe. “We’ll practice with Floo powder. I’ll arrange with Molly and Arthur, and Remus for you to practice, okay?” He asked and wiped her face with the sleeve of his jacket.  
“Sirius, I’m fine!” She exclaimed and tried to push his sleeve away.  
“I’m so sorry.” Arthur apologized.  
“I’m fine!” Siria repeated.  
“Where did you even end up?” Sirius asked her.  
“Knockturn Alley” Hagrid repeated.  
“Knock— “ Sirius began  
“And guess who I in Borgin & Burkes!” Siria interrupted. “Malfoy and his dad!” This got not only Sirius’s attention, but Mr. Weasley’s.  
(Book : B2, 56-61 with the vaults, except add Sirius’s, seeing other students at Diagon Alley, Gilderoy Lockhart announcing he’s the new DADA teacher, Draco being jealous)

Siria snapped at Malfoy “You’re welcome to trade with me,” but it was muffled under Ginny.  
For the first time all summer, Ginny spoke, and it was in Siria’s defense. “Leave her alone, she didn’t want all that!” Ginny shouted at him. Like in Borgin & Burkes, Siria felt the subtle comfort of having a friend near her. She wanted to hug Ginny.  
(Book, B2, 61-64 Draco calling Ginny Siria’s girlfriend, the fight between Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy, and Lockhart hoping it makes it into the article)  
“Why didn’t I skip the Apothecary? I should have been there!” Sirius told her for the third time.  
“Why?” Siria asked. He seemed to be fuming over having missed the brawl.  
“I would have loved to pummel Lucius.” Sirius confessed; Mrs. Weasley snapped to glare at him. For a woman who had been so loving and kind the week Siria stayed with them, she looked an awful like a lioness about to pounce.  
“And by pummel, I obviously mean a verbal beating because hands are for holding and hugs.” said Sirius. This gave Siria a pause and she looked to her godfather with questioning eyes.  
“How old do you think I am?” She asked him.  
“I know you’re twelve, but I always hoped the Dursleys would change their minds and let me adopt you, so I stayed on top of parenting things.” He confessed.  
They each looked away and said no more on the subject. Though no one would confess it, everyone saw the pink tinge cover their faces. Siria had regretted letting Sirius wipe off the slightest bit of ash from her face. Sirius used to hope to adopt her. She stole a look at him, but her head quickly snapped in Hermione’s direction when she saw him looking back.  
“Hermione, I had a question about our Potions essay,” Siria lied and hurried to the other side of Hermione. She didn’t want to think about if Sirius still wanted to adopt her. If he did, maybe he would try again. If he didn’t… at least he was her godfather and wanted her for the summers.  
“Who wants ice cream, before we all part ways?” Sirius asked. “I know you’re dentists, but you’ve got to try Florean Fortescue’s. There isn’t anywhere better.” It took more persuading to get the Grangers to agree, but everyone ended up sitting in the tables outside the ice cream parlor only a moment later.  
Sirius had insisted on splitting a sundae with Siria, which she had been very excited to do. She was quickly disappointed because Sirius only grabbed one spoon. He made whooshing sounds and told her it was a broom. Her protests ultimately caused her to end up with ice cream on her nose. “Come on Siria,” George egged Sirius on.  
“Yeah. Everyone loves a good broom.” Fred added.  
“Just once. I hardly got to feed you as you a baby.” Sirius pleaded. He held the spoon up by his charming smile. His elegant silver eyes were full of good intentions. She had to give him this. Siria sighed and held up a finger. “I’ll take it!”  
As if it wasn’t weird enough for her, Fred and George pitched in to the sounds. George pretended to be running commentary in a match for the broom. “And Black makes a hard left to dodge a Bludger. Can he get the Quaffle through?” While Fred pitched in to the sounds of the broom’s speed. It was the most awkward bite of her life, but it had been worth it. Not only did it leave Sirius with an ear-to-ear grin and shining with the feeling of accomplishment, it had raised everyone’s spirits. They had been heading, rather tame, toward the fireside, but they were now bubbly and full of life.  
“Honestly, Sirius.” Mrs. Weasley had tsked, but she was smiling when she handed Siria a spoon.  
“Thank you,” Siria told her and scooped the largest bite she could. “Prepare for my revenge.” Siria grinned at Sirius.  
“I can take it.” He assured her in a low, comically serious voice.  
“Prepare for the airplane!” She raised her spoon. Loudly and dramatically, he gasped and pulled his forearm to his head.  
“Not the plane!”


	5. The Whomping Willow

**The Whomping Willow**   


True to his word, Sirius had dug out a tapestry of his family. It was waiting on the floor of the dueling room the night she returned. They poured over it for hours. He didn’t seem happy about it, unless he got into explaining why someone had been blasted off. Siria was surprised to find Regulus on the tapestry. Kreacher had told her that Regulus had defected. It wasn’t until Sirius explained that Voldemort had Regulus killed that Siria understood that Kreacher really had not told a soul beside her. She wanted to tell Sirius, but didn’t want to break her promise to Kreacher.  
“You’re related to Malfoy?” She had exclaimed upon seeing the pale, silvery blonde boy with cold grey eyes on the tapestry.  
“Why do you think I’d love to beat Lucius?”  
“With words, right?” She smirked “hands are for holding, Sirius.” It brought a smile back to his face. Sadly, the initial summary he had given her of “all the best people are blasted off, and I’m happy to be one” really summed up how she felt about it too. They rolled it back up and Sirius threw it over his shoulder to return it to the attic. Siria followed him until the stairs.  
“You can come up, you know” He told her from the next floor. She hesitated, but followed. There was definitely room for Hermione and Ron to stay next summer. Maybe even the holidays.  
“Er… Sirius?” She asked more quietly than she intended.  
“Siria?”  
“Are you… that is…” She watched the stairs as they climbed higher still. “Do you have to work?”  
“Not until the term starts, or so help me I may murder Chloe and Remus. It’s bad enough I don’t know when I’ll get to spend a Christmas with you, but if I have to hire twenty assistances for the season, I will.”  
“You think your boring job could get twenty applicants?” She asked.  
‘Don’t give me that look,” he sassed without even looking over his shoulder. He could hear the arch in her eyebrow and smug smirk on her face.  
“I’m just saying, it’s so boring you won’t even tell your daughter— goddaughter” she rushed to add.  
Sirius climbed into the attic and laid the tapestry down in a pile of other dusty things. Siria stayed a step back from the attic stairs. She heard him sigh. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t picture Sirius being a paper pusher at a desk. That she knew of, there wasn’t a paper pushing job that gave someone the summer months off.  
“I work with Muggles.” Sirius told her, as if this were the occupation itself.  
“Yeah— Chloe.” They had been over this; it was why Siria had to leave her wand in her room last summer.  
“No. I mean, yes.” He pattered gently down the stairs to her. “Remus and I mostly work with Muggles. I think he’s the only wizard I work with.”  
“Do you like, make drills or something?”  
“No. It’s much more boring.” He insisted and guided her back down, down, down, down and down again into the kitchen. As he seemed intent on changing the subject, she let him. One day, he would tell her what he did for work and, even if he had the most boring job she had ever heard of, she was going to make it at least sound like the best job in the world— Muggle and Wizarding.

The end of summer vacation came both too quickly and too slowly for Siria. For as much as she was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, she was sorry to be leaving Sirius. Chloe and Remus took turns joining Siria and Sirius for dinner. Siria didn’t have anything against Chloe, except that Chloe always asked the vaguest questions about work and Sirius would tell her to just text him later every time. She preferred with dinners with Remus because Kreacher could join them, they would all practice magic afterward, and Sirius smiled more.  
Sirius had been true to his word and made Siria practice using Floo powder. It had resulted in her breaking her glasses twice more and, just she she was finally getting the hang of it, she stumbled out of the grate, cut her cheek, and Mrs. Weasley made Sirius stop. Siria learned that, for as weird as seeing Sirius stick his head into the fire, the opposite side was worse. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes were actually full of sparks and her face looked to be made of the flames as she shouted “The poor dear has enough scars, Sirius!” at him.  
On their last night together, Remus joined them for dinner. Kreacher had out done himself with a small chicken, a salad, and a mix of steamed vegetables. While at the table, Sirius tried to hide his vegetables under his chicken bones. Siria caught him, “don’t you want to grow up big and strong?” She teased. He stared blankly at her, then down to his plate.  
“Don’t you want to lead by example?” She asked and pointed at his carrots with her fork.  
“Dogs don’t like carrots.” He protested.  
“They do if they want their goddaughters to eat them.” Siria grinned up at him.  
“For every one you eat, I’ll eat one.” She wagered.  
“No way. Just be good and eat your veggies.” Sirius told her.  
“You used to love carrots.” Remus smiled at him. “In fact, I think it was the first thing we fed Siria.”  
“Carrots?” Siria asked.  
“They were all pureed and mixed with things like spinach and apples.” He told her. Remus and Sirius shared a smile as they took in her face.  
“You really ought to eat them.” Siria linked her fingers beneath her chin and rested her elbows on the table. “You have, however, softened my heart, so I’ll let you split yours with Remus.”  
Sirius gave Remus a look that Siria hadn’t seen before. There was a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. He had arched an eyebrow in an unfamiliar, but playful manner. “What do you say, old friend?” He held a bite of carrot toward Remus, “For the child?”  
“Bleh!” Said Siria. The smirk on Sirius’s face turned to a pout. “Are you flirting at dinner?”  
“Excuse me, but if I was flirting, you’d know.” He defended, but pointed his fork and carrot at her. “I happen to be very smooth.”  
“Smooth like a tire or smooth like sandpaper?”  
“Neither of those are supposed to be smooth.”  
“Exactly!”  
Despite his protests, Sirius ate the vegetables he had hidden, even his carrots. True to her word, Siria ate one for one on each one he ate. Remus was kind enough to clear his plate without her incentive. Tired and full, Siria was led upstairs by Kreacher. “Don’ le’ me go ‘o s’eep.” Siria murmured. She yawned and Kreacher pulled the blankets over her. “P’ease.” She added with another yawn. Trickles of soft, starish light drifted from the chandelier. It was so calming and her eyes were so heavy. Slowly the trickles seemed to drift further and further away.

When Siria woke in the morning, her trunk was packed for her and in the entryway. Kreacher had set the table with a bowl of porridge for her. Sirius was reading the Daily Prophet and hadn’t noticed her enter. His chair was leaned back on its’ hind legs. Siria kicked them, and he clattered to the floor with it.  
“Is that anyway to greet your godfather?” He asked from the floor.  
“You didn’t wake me.” She pouted.  
“You were sleeping so soundly,” Sirius informed her as he pulled himself and the chair up.  
“But you always tell me a story about when you were in school. It was my last chance.”  
“Hey,” he placed the paper on the table and patted her head. “Now we’ve got one more for next summer.”  
Siria crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him. His kind grey eyes took in her bright eyes and messy hair. She plopped down in a seat with her arms still crossed. Outside, she was mad with Sirius and Kreacher for not waking her. Inside, she was upset with herself for being upset; she felt she had grown spoiled.  
With a sigh, Sirius reclaimed his seat at the table. Siria slowly ate her porridge in silence. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend her last morning with him. “Hey,” he smiled across his re-opened paper at her. She kept her head down and looked at him through her messy mane. “I love you.”  
“Iloveyoutoo,” Siria murmured into her bowl.  
“To the moon and back, Siria. To the moon and back.”  
As Siria was packed for and it was just the two of them, they arrived at King’s Cross station rather early. For awhile, they waited in the car for the Weasleys, but Siria got out when she saw Hermione. Sirius exchanged greetings with the Grangers. Siria and Sirius looked at their watches. The Weasleys were running rather late. They barely had fifteen minutes.  
“Are you sure they didn’t beat us?” Siria asked.  
“I’m positive. I don’t see their car— it’s a Ford Anglia.” He told her.  
“But there are at least three here!” Hermione pointed around. “If we don’t save a compartment, we might have to share with Malfoy.”  
“I’m sure Neville would share.” Siria noted. She stood on the tips of her toes. “Oh! There!” Siria pointed.  
“I’m going ahead to get seats. We only have ten minutes!” Hermione told her.  
“Hermione. There’s only three of us, we’ll be fine.”  
“We have to make sure we don’t attract attention going through the barrier.” Hermione defended. Siria put her arms up in surrender and the Grangers left.  
“Molly!” Sirius called and waved. Trunk after trunk was unloaded from their car. Siria looked to Sirius. “Don’t tell Molly, but Arthur’s enchanted it. Last I heard, it could fly and he was working on making it invisible.” She took a moment to stare at the car; clearly, he hadn’t gotten around to making it invisible yet. This was probably a good thing because driving an invisible car was asking for an accident to happen.  
The lot of them rushed into the station and hung around the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Mr. Weasley and Percy went first. Then Fred and George. Sirius leaned cooly against the barrier, gave Siria a small nod, and slid through. Mrs. Weasley took Ginny through. They only had a minute left. Siria looked to Ron and they rush toward the barrier.  
(Book 2: They can’t get through, Ron wants to take the car because it can go invisible and fly. Siria is for it, they go to the Ford Anglia, and load their trunks in.)

Siria looked back to the station. She put her hand over Ron’s. “I can’t. Let’s wait for Sirius and your parents.”  
“But they don’t need the car.” Ron reminded her. Siria unbuckled herself.  
“I know, but… but I want to say goodbye to Sirius.”  
“Can’t you write a letter?”  
“It’s not the same. I think that, if I don’t let him see me off, Sirius will be disappointed. He’s got to work the holidays again, and I won’t see him for the year.” She didn’t confess that she would be disappointed too.  
“He might stop by, like last year.” Ron said. Siria shook her head.  
“I hope not— it’d mean something bad was going on. Ron, please. What’s the harm in waiting? We can write to Professor McGonagall, and let her know we missed the train. I’m sure other people have missed it too.”  
Ron and Siria debated about taking the car or waiting for his parents and Sirius. Even though Ron insisted he could fly the car, and it could turn invisible, Siria was sure there had to be other ways to Hogwarts. “It doesn’t make sense to run the train for one person— Sirius had to get to Hogwarts another way.” she argued.  
“He can Apparate, though.”  
“Then he can Apparate us there.”  
There was the crack of Apparating then a knock on the window. Siria’s heart burst with relief; it was Sirius. She opened the door and jumped to hug him. He looked to Ron with a questioning look, but Ron just shrugged. A moment ago, she’d been so worried about if she could make it to Hogwarts or if she could see Sirius, but she felt like everything would be okay now.  
Mrs. and Mr. Weasley Apparated. They looked stressed, but relief washed over their faces the moment they saw Siria and Ron. “What happened?” Mrs. Weasley asked.  
“We couldn’t get through!” Siria told them.  
“Must have just missed it.” Mr. Weasley suggested.  
“But we still had a minute!” Ron defended.  
“Well,” Mrs. Weasley stepped back in. “All that matters is that you’re both okay and had enough sense to wait in the car.”  
Ron gave Siria a guilty look. As subtly as she could, Siria gave her head a quick shake. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to tell her they thought about taking the car. Sirius patted Siria’s messy mane of hair. “So, how would you like to get to Hogwarts? Apparate or Knight Bus?” Sirius asked. Before Siria could reply, Ron burst out  
“I’ve always wanted to ride the Knight Bus!” As she had prevented him from taking the car, Siria agreed to let him have this. She hoped he’d regret it as much as she did.  
As it had done the last time she rode it, the Knight Bus threw Siria around as it popped from place to place. Her stomach flipped and cartwheeled. The only good thing that came from the bus was Ron, who had been so excited to use the Knight Bus, was even more excited to leave it. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley said goodbye to Ron and Siria, and Sirius led them toward Hogwarts.  
When they made it onto the grounds, there was sharp and loud squawk of a bird. Their heads jerked, and Siria’s jaw dropped. A tree was beating itself in an attempt to flatten a bird that had tried to perch in it. “The Whomping Willow,” Sirius smiled at the tree like it was a friend. “You know, they planted that tree the year we started.” He told Siria. “Students made a game of seeing who could touch the trunk, until too many people got hurt.” Sirius seemed more disappointed the game had ended than that his schoolmates had gotten flattened by the tree.  
“Did Malfoy’s dad ever get hit?” Ron asked excitedly.  
“Excuse me?” Sirius exclaimed. “Siria, you may need to find other friends.”  
“So, Mr. Malfoy’s older than you?” Siria asked. He groaned and pretended to be physically wounded.  
“Lucius is five years older— five! Do you know what you’ll be doing in five years?”  
“Graduating?” Siria suggested. Sirius picked her up into a hug.  
“Five years.” He sighed. “So little time to embarrass you, like a good parent.”  
“Oh! You should send a Howler!” Ron suggested.  
“That’s brilliant!” Sirius agreed. Siria didn’t know what a Howler was, but was already not looking forward to getting one.  
“How much you want to bet I can still touch the trunk?” Sirius asked.  
“How much you wanna bet I can beat you there?” Siria asked.  
“Oh, no. You’re not allowed anywhere near that tree. Look at this.” Sirius pointed his wand at a rock, flicked, and sent the rock at the tree. The Whomping Willow used one of its thick branches to whack the rock back at them. “Duck!” Sirius threw himself to the grounds and pulled Ron and Siria with him.  
“New rule,” Siria proposed as she watched the tree continue to madly swing its branches around, “if it’s too dangerous you wouldn’t have me do it, maybe don’t suggest you do it— especially don’t show me why.” The three of them were now lightly dusted in dirt from the ground. Thank goodness it hadn’t rained. Without another incident, Sirius got them to the castle, where Professor McGonagall was waiting.  
After interrogating them on what happened, they were told to return to their dorms and change into their robes. Siria grabbed onto Sirius’s arm and told Ron to go on ahead. She looked up at him. Five years felt both far away and too close. Somehow, she would have to make the most of them. He gave her the warmest hug of the summer. It left her feeling content and safe. Five years from now, he’d be sending her off to Hogwarts for the last time. She intended to enjoy each one through it.  
“I love you.” She told him.  
“I love you too.” He smiled. “Alright, go have fun.”  
“See you next year.”  
“See you then.” He promised. Before heading to the tower, Siria took one last look at Sirius. He waved and she waved back. She knew then that she was lucky. It felt like her biggest problem was that at Hogwarts, she missed Sirius and with Sirius, she missed Hogwarts.


	6. Gilderoy Lockhart

**Gilderoy Lockhart**   


Naturally, Ron and Siria were the first into the Great Hall. A plate of sandwiches and pitcher of pumpkin juice were waiting for them, and they couldn’t have been more thankful. As they had taken the Knight Bus, which only offered hot cocoa, the two were ravenous. It was rather boring, in the empty Great Hall. Anything they said seemed to echo, which made them feel much louder than they were. Fortunately, after they’d each had a few sandwiches, the plate disappeared and some teachers started to arrive.  
“Siria Potter,” a very cheeky voice called upon entering the Hall. Without having to face them, though Siria had only heard the voice once, she knew it as well as she knew Malfoy’s. “We meet again,” Gilderoy Lockhart smiled his toothy grin. Despite the fact his teeth were perfectly even and white, she was reminded of Kreacher. Lockhart thought her smile to be from seeing him and told her “Yes, I know.” He gave her a wink. Siria was now thankful the sandwiches had been taken away— she and Ron would have choked. As it was, they both fake coughed to hide their sniggers.  
“Siria, Siria, Siria, it’s alright” Lockhart told her. “There’s no need to be shy. I know I’m very famous, but some people have heard of you. All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...” (B2, 91). Ron and Siria looked at each other in disbelief as Lockhart went on to tell her that defeating Voldemort as a baby really isn’t nearly as impressive as winning Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award and was only a start. Ron mouthed “of what?” at Siria, who could only shrug.  
“That is really impressive?” Siria agreed uncertainly. This seemed to be what Lockhart was going for because he told her “Yes. It really is.” Before excusing himself to the staff table. Ron and Siria exchanged another look of disbelief, this time with some mild confusion.  
“What was that about?” Ron asked her.  
“I have no idea.” She honestly confessed. She did find, however, that she was starting to like Lockhart less and less. It was different than her dislike for Malfoy, which mostly resulted in her wanting to duel him in front of the entire school. Siria’s dislike for Lockhart made her feel she would go up three extra flights of stairs to avoid walking anywhere near his class, if he came up to her or pulled her from the crowd again.  
Hermione nearly burst through the doors and, as Ron and Siria were the only ones beside the professors to be in the Hall, she zeroed in on them immediately. She seemed to be radiating with frustration as she sat beside Siria. Her hair seemed even more bushy than it had been before the Hogwarts Express. Hermione was glaring across the Great Hall, to the Slytherin table, at Malfoy.  
“Hermione?” Ron asked, but Siria rather wished he hadn’t prompted her.  
“He stopped by the compartment, twice.” Hermione snapped. “All ‘Poor Scarhead missed the train?’ and sneering through the door and,” Hermione growled. She turned her brown eyes to Siria with a glare. “Where were you?”  
“We missed the train.” Siria defended.  
“The barrier closed.” Ron added.  
“I told you that you should have come with me.” Hermione quipped.  
“Then Ron would have…” Siria met Ron’s worried eye, “been alone.”  
“Siria, I was alone. Well, Neville and I met Ginny and some other first years.”  
“I’m sorry ‘Mione.” Siria gave Hermione her best smile. Hermione returned the smile.  
“You’re lucky that’s cute.”  
The Great Hall filled with students. When the doors of the Hall opened again, Professor McGonagall led a group of nervous first years, including Ginny Weasley, down the Hall. She placed down a stool and the old, patched Sorting Hat. At the brim of the hat, a seam ripped and it belted out into song:

Our beloved Hogwarts started with the Founders Four, Sweet, Humble Hufflepuff, Witty, Ready Ravenclaw Ambitions, Sly Slytherin, and Chivalrous, Great Gryffindor. They made a school based on their dream, To teach young witches and wizards in privacy From Muggles who did not understand their gifts and talens The Founders grew old and past, but I come from their society To sort you in their place. For I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, Here, each year, for when new students come to be divided, I peer inside your minds to see what you cherish most By what I find there, your House is decided. If I find your passions to be grand and bold, And you are lionhearted, you'll find your home in Gryffindor, beneath their banner of scarlet and gold. If you happen to be welcoming, compassionate, and kind, And willing to work yourself to the bone Then dressed in yellow and black, Hufflepuff could be your home. Those friendly Hufflepuffs won't leave you alone. Your may learn your House is with Ravenclaw, Where their colors are bronze and blue. If your mind is ripe with learning Those witty Ravenclaws will lead you true. If you’ve got a hungry mind you find home in Slytherin, Surrounded by a sea silver and green and slyer than you know, those of cutting and resourcefulness show us all what ambition can mean. So sharpen up and ready your minds to tell me all you can, For Hogwarts, I will sort you, as that is my deed. Do don’t worry one bit, our moment is a secret, So be honest on you need!  


With every person sorted, there was a burst of applause. Their new House cheered loudest and they were welcomed by family members, prefects, or other friendly faces. Naturally, Ginny Weasley took a seat beside Percy. Dumbledore rose and gave them two words, “Tuck in.” Although they had eaten quite a few sandwiches earlier, Siria and Ron had grown just as hungry as the others in the meantime.  
There was a beautifully, slow cooked brisket that Siria could not get enough of. She, Ron, Fred, George, and Lee nearly finished it together, even with all the other food they ate. Hermione had a little of everything, and Siria took to adding pieces of the brisket to Hermione’s plate. It seemed to brighten her spirits more.  
Once their stomachs were full and the plates were cleared, everyone headed to their Houses. The fat lady sat looking at them with expectant eyes. “Wattlebird” Hermione told the portrait, which swung open to the Gryffindor common room. The party split and Hermione and Siria headed up to their dorm room, which had a sign for second years on it now. Lavender, Parvati and Fay were already settled in. Fay had closed the curtains around her bed. Hermione picked one of the Lockhart books and read.  
Siria brushed her teeth, flossed, and plopped down on her bed. There was a different sense of comfort here than at Sirius’s. Twinkling lights didn’t trickle from the ceiling and things were lit by candles here. Nothing had been picked out for her, but it felt hers. This was her bed, her curtains, her shared dorm, her friends, and her home. Before she knew it, Siria had drifted off.

Breakfast the next morning was rather uneventful, until the post came. A healthy group of owls came in to deliver items that had been forgotten. Neville Longbottom, a round faced fellow second year had received a few books and a set of robes that he had forgotten. Siria was surprised to receive a letter. She picked up the red envelope, which Ron and Neville both gasped at.  
“I didn’t think he would!” Ron exclaimed.  
“A Howler,” Neville whimpered. The two looked at the envelope like it was a letter bomb.  
“Howler?” Fred asked and turned to look at the red envelope.  
“Haven’t gotten one of those in years,” George told her.  
“Just open in.” Neville cowered behind his plate. Siria didn’t see what the fuss was about, until she opened it.  
The moment Siria pulled the envelope open, Sirius’s voice burst from it. Heads at every table snapped to see Siria, in shock before the letter. “SIRIA POTTER!” Sirius’s voice boomed, deafeningly through the hall. “KNOCK, KNOCK” Siria, not sure if Howlers worked like far too loud, magical telephones, asked who was there. “CANOE.” His voice replied after a moment of pause. Siria looked hesitantly at the letter.  
“Canoe who?” She asked. There was another pause.  
“CANOE PLEASE WRITE AN EXTRA LONG LETTER THIS WEEK?”  
Siria and her fellow Gryffindors burst into laughter. She stopped, rather quickly, because the letter burst into flames and curled into ashes (B2, 88). It had been so tense before she ripped the letter, even more tense when he shouted her name, but he had been such a dork.  
Sirius’s Howler got Siria through her first day back. Through the baby mandrakes they had to repot with Justin Flinch-Fletchley, and the midday shower she had to take to get all the dragon dung fertilizer off before Transfiguration (B2, 89-94). When Professor McGonagall announced they would be practicing turning beetles into buttons, Siria leapt up from her chair. It was the first time she had been more excited than Hermione to try something, and she couldn’t tell anyone why.  
Though it had been a year, and Sirius probably forgotten that students learned it so early, he had told her that, once she could turn a beetle into a button, he’d start teaching her how to turn into a dog. He had, of course, not guaranteed she would turn into a dog, as he could, but that she could start learning. Animagi, witches and wizards that can turn into animals, are rare and usually registered. Sirius, however, was unregistered, as Siria’s father had been.  
As the lesson progressed, Siria realized she had a long way to becoming an Animagus. Hermione was the only one to successfully turn a beetle into a button; she then went on to turn a handful of beetles into buttons (B2, 95). Siria was not as skilled and had somehow managed to Transfigure away the legs of her beetle.  
(Book: B2, 95-7 lunch & meeting Colin, which involves him asking for a signed photo. Malfoy overhears & tells Ron that he could sell them)  
“Be careful, Weasley,” sneered Malfoy. Siria stepped past Colin and right in front of Malfoy. As he had done last year, he backed into Crabbe and Goyle. She straightened herself up and grinned at the fact she was a few inches taller than him.  
“Are you having fun?” Siria asked him. Malfoy looked taken aback. She leaned in to tell him, only for his ears “Everyone knows you’re so clever, marvelous Malfoy with his hair and his father. Anytime you wanna take my stupid scar and fame, it’s yours.” A light pink colored the back of his neck.   
(Book: B2, 97-103 Gilderoy & his class)


	7. Mudbloods and Murmurs

**Mudbloods and Murmurs**   


Without fail, every morning of her first week started with a Howler from Sirius with another terrible “Knock, Knock” joke. Much of the rest of her first week was spent avoiding Lockhart. Whenever she was unfortunate enough to be caught by him, Lockhart was sure to give her what he thought to be great advice. They were mostly cliche quips about how fleeting fame can be. He would always add that she had plenty of time to catch up, once she finished school. Each one almost meant she had to run to the next class. It was the worse when she was ran into Potions, breathless and without a moment to spare.  
Snape glared at Siria like he dared her to be late. She settled into her desk as quickly as she could. That lesson, she was sure to read each direction twice before doing the step and again before proceeding. Her Burning Bitterroot Balm was almost the same shade as Hermione’s, but also thinner. Siria was actually rather pleased when she submitted her phial to Snape.  
Colin Creevey, who seemed to have learned Siria’s schedule by heart, popped up throughout each day (B2, 104). No matter how many times he called “Hi Siria!” she smiled, though she smiled less and less each time, and greeted him back. Fortunately, he had the sense to leave her alone at meal times.   
Ginny Weasley kept her head low, but Siria almost always knew when Ginny was around. She could feel the same sensation of having a friend that she felt at Flourish and Blotts. Siria felt a bit like Ginny’s own Colin, expect they would only wave to each other. Ginny would then hide her face behind a curtain of her fiery hair.   
When Friday finally rolled into evening, the trio talked of going down to see Hagrid the next day. Siria would write her letter to Sirius after. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain caught Siria on her way to the common room. He wanted to go over plays before tomorrow. Siria sighed, but sat, with Hermione and Ron until the other members of the team joined. George sat down beside Siria, with Fred next to him. Alicia Spinnet, a fourth year, was chatting with Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, her fellow Chasers. Everyone seemed to have had a busy week, but all of them were eager to play.  
(Book: B2 108 with Wood going over the plays he made over summer)  
“I got a question, Oliver,” said George, “Why couldn’t you have waited until tomorrow?”  
“Because I’ve been told that you two and Siria are useless in the early morning.” Wood told him.  
“Useless?” Fred cried,  
“We aren’t useless,” George defended.  
“We’re just not morning people.” Fred quipped.  
“No one is a morning person.” Siria grumbled. She knew exactly who would have told Wood that she was no good in the mornings— Hermione.  
It wasn’t until Katie shook Siria awake the next morning that Siria was thankful to Hermione. Though Siria had been woken and the world seemed too loud to have been sleeping, she fumbled through the morning. Siria fell out of bed and had been tangled in her sheets. The more she fought against them, the more they seemed to trap her; it was like Devil’s Snare. “Lumos!” Her voice croaked with the tired that weighed down her mind. On the headboard of her bed, her wand lit up. She was able to pull herself out and somehow managed to get her Quidditch robes on.  
(Book: B2, 105-106 Colin meeting Siria on the way to practice & wanting her to sign the photo)  
“Just—” Siria begrudgingly held out her hand, “just take my hand, and I’ll catch you, okay?” She had grown tired of Colin almost falling down the stairs in an effort to hold onto her every word.  
“Really?” He asked, but Colin had already grabbed hold of her hand. He smiled so widely that it made her smile a bit too. She explained to him how Quidditch worked until they were on the last staircase and a voice cut through. One she knew anywhere and hated more than Lockhart’s.  
“Got a boyfriend now, Potter?” Malfoy called. Siria kept her focus on Colin. She made a point of not acknowledging. It was easier than she thought because Siria was too busy making sure Colin hopped over the last vanishing step to look at Malfoy. “Potter!” Malfoy called. “Hey, Potter! Did you hear me?’” He asked.  
Colin let go of Siria’s hand and they headed toward the entrance. Malfoy stepped in front of her. Siria made a point to look at Colin. “Are you coming?” She asked him and walked straight at Malfoy, like he wasn’t there. He stepped out of her way, as he had done before.   
Despite herself, Siria grinned. She snapped her head up and marched onto the grounds, with Colin following behind her.  
(book: Quidditch and team explanation continued B2 106-107)  
The rest of the team was already out on the field. Siria ran out to it and Wood asked what took her so long. She pointed to Colin, who had already taken a spot in the stands and clicked away on his camera. “He’s a Gryffindor first year, and follows me like a duckling.” Colin and his camera’s clicks were less distracting when Siria took to the air. Even though the clicks echoed through the Quidditch field, there was something about flying that cleared Siria’s head.  
Here, on the field, she could fly as fast or as high as she wanted. There was something liberating about soaring. She felt free even though there hadn’t been anything holding her back. It had been two year since she’d been locked in a cupboard. Flying felt like the anti-cupboard. Siria soared higher than she’d ever needed for a match, until the air felt a little thin and was cold. Everyone and thing seemed small up there.  
She took an easy breath and flew back down. Wood had them run his new plays and drills for an hour. Hermione and Ron joined the stands. Siria slid from the diving drill to catch a word. It wasn’t until she saw their toast and marmalade that Siria realised how hungry she was. Ron asked how she wasn’t done yet. Hermione sighed and extended the toast to Siria. “Really?” Siria asked, but she already reached for it, just as Colin had taken her hand earlier.  
“You look like you’re ready to eat my arm.” Hermione smiled at her.  
“You’re the best ‘Mione.” Siria told her and nearly swallowed the toast whole. There was something about it that filled her and made her more hungry.  
Wood blew his whistle and Siria flew back to the field, but the rest of the team had landed. She rushed down. “Wha’s it?” Siria asked Wood while she licked the marmalade from her hand. Oliver’s face glared across and Siria turned; the Slytherin Quidditch team was marching toward them.  
(Book: B2 110-111 with Wood having booked the field and Flint having a note from Snape to train their new Seeker— Draco Malfoy because his father bought the team Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, which just came out last month)

Fred, George, and Siria held their brooms proudly. It didn’t matter if the Nimbus Two Thousand and One was better than the Nimbus Two Thousand. They had beat Slytherin last year; they would beat them this year.  
(Book: B2 111-112 with Ron & Hermione coming down, and Draco showing off the brooms more. Though Malfoy can’t insult the Cleansweep Fives [which have been replaced with Nimbus Two Thousands], Hermione still tells him the Gryffindor team got in on talent, and he calls her a Mudblood.)  
Flint dove between Fred and George to stop them from wailing on Malfoy, but Siria was small enough to get through. She tackled Malfoy onto the field and heard the riot break out. Flint stopped pushing Fred and George back to try and pull Siria off Malfoy, but Wood grabbed ahold of Flint. “Not my Seeker!” Wood shouted and managed to wrestle Flint away. Alicia, Katie, and Angelina pushed the Slytherin Chasers away from Siria and Malfoy. Ron tried to tackle one, but the Slytherin Chasers were much older and meatier than he was. No matter how tall Ron was, he was lanky.  
Malfoy grabbed a handful of Siria’s hair and tried to push her head back. With her own elbow, she elbowed his and caused it to buckle then Siria headbunted him as hard as she could. He let out a cry of pain. Hermione screamed for them to stop. Malfoy whacked Siria in the jaw, but they froze when there was a loud— CRACK.  
Everyone had stopped fighting. Ron’s wand had snapped. Both teams broke apart. Siria wiped the blood from her mouth. Slowly and glaring at the opposing team, both teams started to part. “You’ll pay for this, Potter.” Malfoy spat.  
“Just like you, I can afford it!” She snapped back. Colin rushed onto the field, still clicking away.  
“That was amazing!” He told her. “I can’t wait to see how they develop.”  
Both teams took to the Hospital Wing, which they all regretted. Professors McGonagall and Snape arrived almost the moment everyone had sat down. It was a long, tiring talk, which resulted in everyone getting a detention, each House losing a hundred points, and Professor Dumbledore coming down. Professor Dumbledore was probably the worst part of it. He looked so very disappointed at them all.  
“I am afraid I cannot condone fighting.” He told them in a tone that almost made Siria feel bad for hitting Malfoy. “Should any of you be caught, breaking further rules, you will find a fate much worse than the detention you have been issued.”  
As no one managed to cause an injury to anyone that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t take care of, they’d only gotten one detention. Madam Pomfrey dabbed at Siria’s lip. “Honestly,” she grumbled at her. “What have you done to your pretty face?” Siria locked her emerald eyes with Malfoy’s silver. She smirked and raised her head some.  
“You should see the other guy.”  
After they had been patched good as new, Hermione tried to repair Ron’s wand. The Mending Charm snapped the two pieces, which had been hanging by unicorn hair, together. There was, however, a very noticeable crack that ran down the wand. Ron told them he would Spell-o-Tape, and tried to put on a hopeful face. The trio went down to see Hagrid.  
(Book: B2 115-121— Hagrid’s [no slugs], they learn what “Mudblood” means,  
“I don’ blame yeh fer figh’in’ Malfoy, but I ‘spect Lucius Malfoy may come marchin’ up ter school”  
“Let him!”  
“Siria, yer better watch yerself.”  
detention with Lockhart that night [Hermione doesn’t have a “you did break school rules” face] and Siria hears the voice in the pipes, but doesn’t know where it’s coming from or what it is. It’s late when she gets back.)

Hermione sat, reading in her bed. Siria changed into her pajamas and crawled next to Hermione. “Yes?” Hermione asked in a low and quiet voice. Siria explained about the disembodied voice. “Well, that’s rather strange, isn’t it? I mean, Professor Lockhart couldn’t hear it and anyone else would have had to open the door.”  
“But Hermione, I heard it.”  
“But Siria, it’s rather late you might just be tired.” Hermione proposed. Siria placed her hand over Hermione’s.  
“Okay, but what if I really did hear?” Siria asked. Hermione looked into Siria’s bright eyes.  
“Alright,” she conceded. “Maybe you should write to Sirius, and we’ll keep an ear out.”  
Siria wrapped Hermione into a one armed hug. If Hermione was willing to help, she’d figure it out. They shared a quiet laugh, but not quiet enough. Lavender grumbled for them to “Shut it.” It made them laugh, just a little louder, before Siria retired to her own bed.


	8. Howlers and Healers

**Howlers and Healers**   


Sunday morning, Hermione shook Siria awake and insisted she write to Sirius straight away. Although Siria rather felt it could wait until later, she crawled out of bed, dressed, and collected a quill, ink, and parchment. Halfalseep, Siria wasn’t entirely sure what she wrote Sirius. She somehow managed to fill the front and back of a sheet of parchment, remembered to thank him for the joke Howlers, and hoped she made the part about hearing the disembodied voice small enough that he wouldn’t worry.  
As Siria had yet to get consistent at turning beetles into buttons, she left that part out of her letter. Hermione had promised to practice with Siria until she got it down. Ron didn’t seem at all pleased to be practicing in Professor McGonagall’s classroom on a Sunday, but came all the same. Even Neville, who had said he didn’t have anything else to do, joined them. The four practiced from breakfast until lunch, when Professor McGonagall encouraged them to enjoy the rest of their first weekend back.  
“I don’t see why it matters so much.” Ron said.  
“Sirius’s best subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration.” Siria told him, as if this settled the matter. Ron shrugged.   
“My dad was really good at Defense Against the Dark Arts too.” Neville told them. It was the first time he had even mentioned his parents.  
“Maybe we could all practice, together.” Siria suggested.  
“Doubt Lockhart will let us.” Ron said.  
“Ron!” Hermione snapped.  
“We wouldn’t need him. We just need to find a classroom that’s never used, and can teach each other.” Siria told them.  
“That’d be too dangerous.” Hermione protested, “how would we explain getting hurt?”  
“We could just not get hurt.” Siria suggested, but the trio turned to Neville. Neville was a very good hearted and natured person, but he was unbelievably clumsy.  
“I suppose we could ask Professor McGonagall, but you’ll have to stay out of trouble.” Hermione directed the last bit to Ron and Siria.  
“I’d like to remind you that I had committed myself to ignoring Malfoy, and had been doing well.” Siria noted. She had, after all, not acknowledged his baits yesterday morning.  
The four were sold on practicing. They would stay out of trouble and ask Professor McGonagall next weekend if they could commit to Sunday mornings. Hermione made them promise they would have their homework done by then, “even if it isn‘t due that week.” To Hermione, this unfortunately included re-reading any assigned chapters or notes, and reviewing any potion instructions they’d gotten that week. Siria noticed that the instructions Snape had on the blackboard were slightly different than the ones in the book Hermione had checked out from the library.  
When Monday morning’s mail rolled around, it was no surprise that Siria had another Howler. She smiled and snatched it. Siria was just about to open it when she noticed Ron and everyone on the Gryffindor Quidditch team had gotten one as well. Her bright green eyes widened and met Ron’s. There was a large thunk on the table, as another owl dropped a book on top of Siria’s eggs. Hedwig hooted the other owl away and perched herself on Siria’s shoulder. There was a letter, from Sirius, perched in Hedwig’s beak.  
The whole table sat in tense silence. By now, everyone had heard how the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams each lost a hundred points for their House by getting into a Muggle brawl. It seemed, however, the Slytherin parents had the care to shout any of their concerns and grievances.  
“‘Supose I’ll go first,” Siria shuddered. She extended her Howler out to arm’s length, and tore.  
“SIRIA J. POTTER!” The tone was very different than the almost laughing one of last week’s letters. “KNOCK, KNOCK!” It was still stern. She couldn’t bring herself to ask who was there. “WATER!” Hedwig and the other owls shot out of the Hall. Siria winced; she hoped, but dared not utter water who. “WATER YOU THINKING GETTING INTO A FIGHT? HANDS ARE FOR HOLDING AND HUGS! IF YOU GET INTO ANOTHER BRAWL, DUMBLEDORE HAS MY PERMISSION TO MAKE YOU HOLD THEIR HAND UNTIL HE THINKS YOU CAN GET ALONG!” The Howler ripped itself then burned.  
“Well, don’t know why there’s a handwritten letter too.” She whispered to herself more than anyone else.   
The other team members who had all received Howlers opened them together. There was a mess of voices: Oliver Wood’s mother, Angelina Johnson’s father, Alicia Spinnet’s mother, both of Katie Bell’s parents, and two of Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley sent a Howler to the twins and another to Ron. With all the deafening noise, it was hard to make out what any of the parents had said until only the two by Mrs. Weasley remained. They concluded in chorus “AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE,WE’RE BRINGING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!” (B2, 88).  
Though the rest of the Great Hall steadily continued their breakfast, those with Howlers needed a moment. Siria was fuming because Malfoy fought too, but was just sitting at the Slytherin table, eating an apple with a huge smirk on his face. Even more than she was angry, she was appalled. Reckless and rule breaking Sirius had scolded her. She tried to reason it as being because, no matter how close the call, he usually got away without being caught. Was that the real reason Sirius had been upset? She could be more clever about her battles, and fight more secretly.  
“—Ria! Siria!” Hermione waved and snapped at Siria, but she couldn’t hear.  
“Let us,” Fred nodded to George and the two clapped in sync before her.  
“Huh?” Siria asked.  
“You’ve got eat!” Hermione told her.  
“Not hungry,” for once, it was true.  
“At least gotta read your letter” Fred told her.  
“And clean the eggs off your book.” George added.

Herbology that day was a blur to Siria. It wasn’t until she was washing off the dragon dung fertilizer that she even realised she had gone to Herbology, let alone left it. Transfiguration was even worse. Although Siria had turned a beetle into a button the day before, she couldn’t focus and ended up changing her beetle’s shell different colors. She didn’t even notice the smell of rotten eggs or thick, grey smoke Ron’s wand was making (B2, 95).  
Lockhart had given up on hands-on teaching. He spent the class continuing his dramatic reading of Break with a Banshee. Hermione took Siria’s bag and rifled through for Sirius’s letter, which she ripped open. Siria hadn’t even noticed until Hermione put the opened letter on the desk and elbowed Siria. Dazed, Siria looked at her, Hermione pointed to the letter. Never had she ever encouraged Siria to do something that wasn’t take notes. History of Magic was the only class Hermione didn’t pester Siria and it was because Siria usually spent the time reading the book. Siria spared Lockhart a look, but he was too impressed with his accomplishments to notice her. She let her eyes fall on the letter.

Dear Siria,  


He had dotted the “I’s” with stars.

I am so very sorry about the Howler. Lucius threatened to bring all the parents to court, which he would never win, but it would have been exhausting. After talking with the other Gryffindor parents—  


He called himself a parent!

—we agreed to his other demand of “compensation.” Note the Howlers. Lucius hoped to take you all down a notch, morally. The git bought his son a place on the Quidditch team and no doubt wants to make people think otherwise, don’t let them. I know that it isn’t fair you lot are the only ones who got into trouble. You may even feel guilty for fighting. As much as I was worried when I heard from Dumbledore, I was proud. Siria, you stood up for your friend. You probably didn’t even know what “Mudblood” meant, but you jumped to Hermione’s defense; James would have done the same. Siria rested her arms on the desk and let her hair form a curtain over her face. Obviously I can’t very well encourage you to fight. You have to remember that words are your strongest weapon. Another owl should have delivered a book of helpful ones. Please let your teammates know, for however upset we are they could have been hurt. We could not be more proud. I hope the other parents will write, but Molly is still furious. Most of all, Siria, beat that son of a slimeball, his team, and his fancy brooms with the skill and heart we know you’ve got. Love, Sirius  


Although she smiled, Siria fought back tears. Under the table, she took hold of Hermione’s hand. Hermione did not look up from her notes, but smiled. Siria tried to subtly dap away her tears with her sleeve, but Lockhart caught her when she sniffled.  
“I know. I know.” He told her. “Sometimes, I find myself moved to tears by my own acts of heroism.” Siria nodded and kicked Ron under the table to stop his laughter.  
She slid the letter some, so he could read it. Ron gave her a thumbs up, but then slammed his finger on the bottom. Under his signature, at the very bottom of the letter, in notably smaller writing was a postscript.

If you think I’m joking about the hand holding, I’m not. I saw it on the internet and thought it was hilarious. Lucius, the idiot, thought I was serious and you might die of embarrassment —he doesn’t realise you’re as good as part Veela, and anyone stuck with you’ll fall for you. Also, if you want to learn anything fun this summer, you better pull a Hermione and learn the book I sent you. We won't cover anything until I know you’ve got it down. If you need anything, write.  


So many emotions seemed to explode inside Siria: Pride, at Sirius being proud, was ricocheting around; Being-Loved was playing tug-o-war with Embarrassment, to see who got to be strongest emotion; Giddiness, for him indirectly calling himself her parent or, at least, grouping himself with the parents; and Determination because she would catch that Snitch, even if it killed her.  
At practice that night, the team agreed to train harder and longer. They would beat Slytherin and make their parents proud. Wood made sure to drill them twice as hard as usual. He had Siria run dive and turn drills. Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and George played as two-people Chaser teams while Fred and Wood each guarded a set of posts. It wasn’t until it was too dark to practice that Wood finally let them stop. When Siria finally landed on the field, her head hurt and her legs gave out; she felt like she had whiplash, which, with how many times she jerked a sharp turn, may be true.  
After practice, though beaten and more tired than ever, Siria pulled out the book Sirius had gotten her, Helping Hands. The title made her laugh, but he had probably planned that. Though she wanted to get to the heart of the matter, Siria started with the Preface, which had been written by Madam Poppy Pomfrey.  
The head of the Hospital Wing insisted that no matter how sure Siria believed herself to be after reading the entire book, none of it should ever be performed without the proper training. Even though Madam Pomfrey explained that the spells and potions had been tested countless times, revised, and explained down to the very number and a half of turns, they were meant to serve as a guide for those with the required N.E.W.T. scores who had already entered a Healers program.  
Unable to go on, Siria circled “N.E.W.T.” and readied for bed. Even Hermione had gone to sleep, which told Siria it was well past time for her to. She brushed her teeth and looked at the dental floss. Why wasn’t there a spell to floss teeth? Where was the spell to brush teeth? Siria crawled under the blankets. How come she needed glasses? Wizards as old as Dumbledore used glasses, but no one had made a spell to fix eyesight? These questions filled Siria’s head as the room seemed to spin and she swiftly drifted to sleep.

When Sunday finally rolled around, Hermione had to rip the blankets from Siria’s bed. Siria grumbled in defiance and pulled the pillow over herself. They tugged on the pillow until Siria had grown too awake to go back to sleep. Ever since Siria had been freed from her cupboard, she started to enjoy sleeping in more and more. Though, even when she had been in the cupboard under the stairs, she was rarely woken before the sun.  
“‘Mione,” Siria grumbled. Her messy mane of jet black hair was even more tossed and tumbled than usual. “Wha’s it?”  
“You stayed out of trouble, so we’re asking Professor McGonagall, remember?”  
“‘Member what?” Siria yawned and sat up. She shook the largest part of her mane, which evened out to its usual mess.  
“Defense Against the Dark Arts!” Hermione sighed. She popped Siria’s trunk open and rifled through for day clothes.  
“Siria, do you own anything that isn’t Moony & Padfoot?” Hermione asked. Siria yawned again and shrugged.  
“Snuffles an’ Sirius get all my clothes.”  
“Hmm.” Hermione seemed to want to ask more, but did not. She threw a pair of dark jeans with white splatter at Siria’s head, which knocked her back down. Then an ombre shirt of purple shades with white, star-like spots sprinkled across the top. Hermione removed a faux leather jacket, closed the trunk, and tossed the jacket onto Siria.  
Despite feeling she could lay in bed all day, Siria changed into the outfit Hermione had picked out for her. Siria plopped onto the floor beside her bed, and Hermione parted her hair. She braided two small sections beside Siria’s bangs back then together and tied them off. By the time she was done, Fay had woken up.  
“Nice!” Fay told them. “You don’t match, but you kinda do too.” Siria hadn’t noticed that Hermione had picked out a blue reverse ombre skirt for herself, topped with a cotton candy sunset shirt, and complemented with a soft, cloud looking sweater. Although Siria had never done more than a plain braid, she became determined to try. Ultimately, Parvati woke up and wove some of Hermione’s hair into a charming crown braid.  
“We’ve got to get a picture,” Siria told Hermione. Never before had she a friend to dress with. There was a certain type of happiness that came from having an outfit coordinated by a friend. Although the picture wouldn’t be able to save the feeling, Siria hoped it would always remind her of it.  
On the condition Siria agreed to take a photo with Colin and sign it, he agreed to take two photos for them. As they knew the pictures would move, Siria and Hermione laughed and posed together. In his picture, Colin pointed at Siria, so she pointed at him. Unlike the photo with Lockhart, Siria looked forward to seeing these.  
People actually complimented Hermione and Siria, and it was amazing. There was something encouraging about it that was the complete opposite of when people gawked at Siria for her scar. Ginny Weasley, who had hardly been near Siria since that day at Flourish and Blotts brought over another first year girl. The girl had a very dreamy and dazed expression on her face. Her large eyes seemed to both stare at them and not.  
“Lovely for attracting Dorsickles.” She told them.  
“Thanks?” Siria looked to Hermione, who hadn’t seemed to hear of them either. The girl continued to stare at them for a moment longer than most, before she took a seat at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny murmured something that Siria couldn’t make out before she left and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Siria clicked her tongue because she felt like Ginny was already her friend, but would never hang around her. She started to wonder if she was the only one that felt a friendly presence around Ginny.  
After breakfast, Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Siria made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office. The door was opened and she almost seemed to be expecting them. Four envelopes were on her otherwise clear desk. She looked over her glasses. “I was starting to wonder if you lost heart.” She told them. They all looked to Hermione.  
“Professor, as I’m sure you know from my letter” Hermione began. Ron mouthed “What letter?” and Siria shrugged. “We would like to practice Transfiguration and the practical skills of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wrote all our parents, for permission, and it looks like you’ve gotten replies.”  
“Yes. I have.” Professor McGonagall nodded.  
“And they agreed?” Hermione asked, rather hopefully. Professor McGonagall gave one, short nod. Hermione jumped and grabbed Siria. “We can practice!” Siria pulled Ron and Neville into the hug. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.  
They entered the Transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and pulled out a book for the time. Hermione collected a box of beetles for them to practice on. After an hour and half on the beetles, which was particularly difficult for Ron because his wand took to smoking again, they transitioned.  
“What should we practice, though?” Hermione asked. “Professor Quirrell only covered how to avoid dangerous situations, and Professor Lockhart has been going over magic too complicated for us to start with.”  
“That’s where I come in.” Siria grinned at her. “Sirius and I have been practicing Shield Charms. I can even do one, sometimes.”  
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow of interest, but did not look up from her book. Siria hopped up from her chair.  
“So it’s Protego— pro-tay-go” Siria told them. “And, you just move your wand in a line.”  
“What kind of line?” Hermione asked.  
“Well, Sirius showed me a straight line, for practice, but the first time I actually got it, I swing my arm like this” and Siria drew a slightly diagonal, mostly horizontal line across herself. At one point, Ron’s wand shot through the air. Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at it and his wand froze then flew back to him. She told them that is was probably best to stop there for the day.  
“Maybe we should start with something easier.” Hermione confessed.  
“It’s a lot easier to see if you actually got it when someone is casting something against you.” Siria said.  
“But what could we use?” Ron asked,  
“Sirius said any spell is a weapon, if you know how to use it.” Siria noted. “I’ll write him and see if he can’t send something easier.”  
“Would he send you another book though?” Hermione asked. “You haven’t finished Helping Hands, have you?”  
“No.” Siria groaned.  
She’d read more every night, but the book felt endless. Each spell had a chapter to itself. There were extra notes at the end of every chapter, which felt like an entirely new chapter. At the end of the extra notes was a quiz, of forty to fifty questions, that would grade itself, tell her what she missed, and make her go back into the chapter— even when she only missed one question.


	9. The Deathday Party & The Writing on the Wall

**The Deathday Party**   


(Book: B2, 122-123 October, the flu breakout & Pepperup Potion, practice resulting in them being covered in mud)  
Fred, George, and Siria squelched along the corridor with Colin Creevey following behind. Despite the rain and mud, Colin had not missed a single practice. Wood had banned Colin from taking pictures during practice, but Professor McGonagall told Wood he could not stop Colin from watching.  
(Book: B2, 123-124 with Nearly Headless Nick and his Headless Hunt Rejection Letter, Mrs. Norris appears, to alert Flinch of all the mud the four have tracked)  
“No kidding!” said Fred.  
“Right!” George agreed. No sooner had they taken a step, Filch appeared.  
(Book: B2, 125-128 Filch’s office description, him preparing to write them up, but Peeves crashing of the cabinet in the room right over them, which causes Filch to storm out, and they find out about his Kwikspell course)

George stuffed the letter back into the envelope and tossed in on the desk. Fred slid it back where they had picked it up. Filch returned to the office, looking as if Christmas had come early. He looked at his desk and the envelope, which was where he had left it, but with a water trail leading from the spot George had plopped it down.  
(Book: B2, 128-129 they get off with the threat that they better not read a word, even though it’s for “a friend” and it doesn’t matter because they didn’t read it)  
Fred and George led the way as the four ran from Filch’s office.  
“Got to be a miracle!” Fred exclaimed  
“Thank Merlin for Peeves!” George agreed.  
“I thought his head would explode,” Siria confessed. Nearly Headless Nick gilded out of a classroom with a large, black-and-gold cabinet that looked very broken (B1, 129). The four stopped.  
(Book: B2, 129-132. Fred, George and Colin agree to go the Deathday Party too, as a thank you to Nick. Hermione points out Moaning Myrtle)  
“Is that why we don’t use that bathroom?” Siria asked her.  
“Yes!” Hermione snapped, quietly.  
(Book: B2 132-133. It’s his 525th Deathday, died 10/31/1487 [rather than 1492]; there are all the Hogwarts ghosts, music that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and they see all the rotted food.)  
“Don’t worry” George told them,  
“We’ll knick something from the kitchens” Fred assured them  
“Once we tell this Patrick how great Nick is,”  
“We’ll slide on out,”  
“And catch you lot back in the common room.”  
(Book: B2, 133-136 with Peeves & Myrtle, which causes Myrtle to storm off crying, Headless Hunt)  
“Just because his head is attached by a sliver, doesn’t mean Nick isn’t scary!” Siria snapped at Sir Patrick.  
“Yeah!” Ron encouraged her.  
“You think you’re impressive just because you got decapitated?” Fred asked Sir Patrick  
“Anyone could be decapitated,” George told the ghost.  
“It really is more impressive that Nick’s head managed to hang onto him!” Siria added. Sir Patrick gave a dry “Ha, bet he asked you to say that.”  
“He didn’t!” Ron told Sir Patrick because Ron didn’t know that Nick had asked.  
“Well, sometimes there’s nothing more terrifying than asking for what you want, and I think it would make Nick very brave, if he’d asked us!” Siria glared through Sir Patrick’s see-through eyes.  
Nick cleared his throat and excused himself to make his speech.  
(Book: B2 136-137 They leave)  
“See you at the common room” Fred told them.  
“I’ve never seen the kitchens— could I come too?” Colin asked, excitedly. Fred and George exchanged a look, but sighed and agreed he could follow. Siria wondered where the kitchens even were, but she could go another time.  
(Book: B2 137-139— Siria hears the voice and follows it to the writing on the wall, which says the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. The feast ends and everyone finds Siria, Ron, and Hermione at the scene, with the petrified Mrs. Norris.)

**The Writing on the Wall**   


(Book: B2, 140-143 with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lockhart, Snape, Filch, Ron, Siria, and Hermione all going to Lockhart’s office and learning Mrs. Norris is petrified, which takes quite a while and consists of Lockhart saying “if only I had been there,” because he wants people to believe he could have saved her . They also learn that “no second year could have done it;” Snape points out the trio wasn’t at the feast and asks why there were in that corridor)

“It’d have been weird, wouldn’t it?” Siria asked him in a tone that wasn’t at all questioning “If we just waltzed in right after the feast? I’ve got some snacks up in my room and we intended to split them.” Though this last part was a lie, Siria wasn’t sure if students were supposed to know where the kitchens were. She wasn’t about to get Fred, George, and Colin in trouble, after they’d already had a close shave with Filch this month.  
(Book: B2, 144-158 Snape tries to get Siria suspended from Quidditch for not being entirely honest, but McGonagall tells him Mrs. Norris “wasn’t hit with a broomstick,” people think Siria is Slytherin’s Heir, the line of spiders, and the trio debats the Heir of Slytherin)

“Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?” said Hermione skeptically (B2, 158).  
“Yeah.” Siria agreed. “Malfoy couldn’t be. He’s afraid of the Forbidden Forest; why would someone with dark magic strong enough to petrify Mrs. Norris be afraid there? They’d know enough to take care of themself, wouldn’t they?”  
“But look at his family!” Ron argued.  
Hermione gave Siria a speaking look. Siria could only sigh. When it came to families, Malfoy’s was the most likely. If not his, then definitely a Slytherin. Siria leaned toward Hermione. Ron leaned in as well.  
“So, it’s not ideal, but what if we get out my Cloak and take turns watching him?” Siria asked them in a very quiet tone. She pointed at a random spot of Hermione’s homework, so that anyone looking would think she had a question.  
“I don’t want to watch Malfoy!” He hissed.  
“No.” Hermione told them, “That’s actually quite good. If you two can watch him… I may be able to…” she started to murmur too quiet for them to hear hear.  
(Book: Polyjuice potion plot B2, 159-160)


	10. The Rogue Bludger

**The Rogue Bludger**   


(Book: B2, 161-165 they get Lockhart to sign the form, for the restricted section of the library, by Siria putting on a really good show when he asks her to act out parts of his books. Then they start going over the potion, which looks painful, and requires a lot of things they can get from the school’s general supply)  
“[...] don’t know where we’re going to get that— “ Hermione confessed.  
“Sirius,” Siria told her. “I’m sure powdered horn of a bicorn isn’t what he meant when he said to write if I needed anything, but” she shrugged “if I throw it in with a list of stuff for a Helping Hands potion ingredients, he wouldn’t think twice.”  
“Oh, good.” Hermione smiled, “We’ll also need some shredded skin of a boomslang.”  
“Of course we will.”  
(Book: B2, 165, they’ll need bits of who they change into, & Ron thinks it’s disgusting)  
“I suppose we could knick some right off their heads, from under the Cloak” Ron suggested.  
“Don’t you think they’d notice something tug at them?” Hermione asked.  
“But, if Ron follows them into their room, he can get it from a brush or comb.” Siria proposed.  
“You can’t just go into a boy’s room!” Ron argued.  
“But you can.” Hermione and Siria noted.  
“What if he like” Ron shivered. “No way.”  
“Then I’ll do it.” Siria shrugged. “I don’t care if they” she mimicked Ron’s shiver.  
“Well, we have a month to get the hair.” Hermione told them.  
“A month?” Siria gasped.  
(Book: B2, 166, Ron confesses Siria ought to just knock Malfoy off his broom. The match from 166-170, which consists of Siria being targeted by a Bludger that won’t leave her alone. Fred & George are flying so close Siria can’t see anything, and they call a timeout.)

“I don’t care if the Bludger comes at me!” Siria shouted. “Maybe, if it hits, it’ll leave me alone to get the Snitch, but I can’t even see where I’m going with both of you around me.”  
“Don’t be thick; it’ll take your head off!” Fred argued (B2, 170)  
“No one’s ever been killed by a Bludger.” Siria retorted. She turned to Wood.  
“We have to win!” She insisted. “We promised we would. This is more than the Howlers, come on!” Alicia told Siria she was crazy, but Siria protested. George told Wood it was his fault for telling Siria to catch the Snitch or die trying (B2, 170).  
“What if one of you sticks with Siria and the other keeps on the other Bludger?” Angelina proposed.  
“Yes!” Siria agreed. She would rather have been left alone, but she could handle Fred or George. Madam Hooch asked if they were ready. Wood looked to Siria; she gritted her teeth together. She was not going to lose to that prat and his team.  
“All right.” Wood sighed, “George, stick to the Bludger on Siria, but, if she needs you to back up, do it. Siria,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “show them there’s more to being a Seeker than the broom.” Siria could have hugged him, but held her hand up. Wood high-fived her and nodded.  
With George on her as she flew across the field, the Bludger was kept at bay. Wood had them practice so often that George could almost keep on her tail. He was more than fast enough for the Bludger, which was too heavy to change direction at the rate Siria could (B2, 170). Unfortunately, it started to rain.  
(Book: B2, 171 “Training for the ballet” paragraph where Siria sees the Snitch by Malfoy’s ear)  
Siria dropped into a dive, which triggered Malfoy to do the same. He thought she saw the Snitch on the field, but she flipped her dive into a loop, and shot back upward. Malfoy did the same a moment after her. Siria reached out for the Snitch.  
WHAM.  
A scream came out of her that caught her by surprise. Her right arm slumped back at her. Siria leaned onto her broom and threw her left arm into the air. Beautiful, cold gold filled her palm. The pain in her right arm was blinding, but she felt the Snitch. In her daze of pain, Siria held her left arm in the air, the Snitch’s wings fluttered weakly. There were shouts she couldn’t make out. Her broom was too wet and she was slipping. The world went muffled, like it came through a quiet television in another room. Darkness filled her eyes. The world seemed to slide. She fainted.  
Pain shot through her arm and Siria cried out. George Weasley was holding her in the air by her broken arm. His brown eyes were horrified. His jaw was clamped shut, but he forced a very pained smile at her. “I got you!” He shouted through his gritted teeth. His grip strained to hold her wet arm “I got you!” She heard Fred call about her broom. He’d gotten it. George had her. She had the Snitch.  
Madam Hooch flew to Siria. George held onto Siria until Madam Hooch knocked his hand away. With her left hand still wrapped around the Snitch, Siria gave Wood a pained thumbs up and smile. Her right arm felt like it was full of lightning. Jolts of pain burst through it. They made her clutch the Snitch tighter. It was worth it.  
Professor Lockhart insisted on helping. Siria clutched her broken arm to her chest. “No!” She shouted, “I can see Madam Pomfrey.”  
(Book: B2, 172-176 Lockhart “fixes” her arm by removing the bones, Colin tries to take a picture, Skele-Gro, George tells Siria that Flint yelled at Malfoy for not noticing the Snitch, Hermione helps Siria put the pajamas on. Siria wakes from the pain of the Skele-Gro & the Dobby confessing to closing the barrier, then burning his master’s dinner when he learned she made it to Hogwarts anyway)

“Lucius Malfoy’s dinner?” Siria asked. Dobby flinched at the name, just as Ron did when Siria said Voldemort. “Must be nice to be a Malfoy, all the free time in the world, them.” She grumbled. It was one thing when Ron and Siria spent some time during the winter holiday thinking up ridiculous ways to get Malfoy expelled, none of which would probably work. It was another for him to spend his summer actually plotting to stop her from coming back to Hogwarts.  
“Well, too bad for them. Not only did I make it back, I still beat Malfoy.” Siria looked down to see Dobby in tears.  
(Book: B2, 177-181 confesses to it being his Bludger, and that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before)  
“So Mr. Malfoy opened it when he went to Hogwarts?” Siria asked. Dobby shook his head. His large, green eyes peered up at her. To him, this was no doubt a very speaking glance, like the kind she would sometimes share with Hermione, but, to Siria it only meant that she wasn’t quite right.  
“So Mr. Malfoy didn’t open the Chamber before?” She asked. Dobby gave a short nod. “But is the reason it is now?” He looked to the water jug at her bedside. Siria snatched it and placed it into her lap. “But, Dobby, how can he have not opened it then, but open it when he doesn’t attend?”She asked. “Did Malfoy somehow do it?” Dobby shook his head.   
“Hmmm.” Siria sighed. “I want to believe you. Really. I just, you’re also their house elf, so you’re inclined to lie to me, if ordered. If Mr. Malfoy didn’t open it, who did?”  
(Book: Dobby can’t say, Apparates, & Colin Creevey is brought in— petrified)


	11. The Dueling Club

**The Dueling Club**   


(Book: B2, 182-185 with the terror of the news Colin is in the Hospital Wing, Hermione has started the Polyjuice Potion)  
“But if Dobby belongs to the Malfoys…” Ron began, but Siria shook her head.  
“I know house elves can be ordered to lie, but…” Siria looked to Hermione, “I believe Dobby.”  
“But Dobby knew the Chamber would be opened.” Ron argued.  
“I know, but that doesn’t mean it was Malfoy. His father might be why it opened, but Draco Malfoy is all talk. Remember when we had detention in the Forest?” Siria asked, as if Hermione could have forgotten going into the Forbidden Forest, at night, as a first year. “Well, we heard something snap and he was so eager to get away from it he knocked me down trying to run away.” Siria reminded her.  
“Then he screamed when we saw Quirrell feeding off the unicorn.” She continued. “He’s fine calling you names when he’s guarded by the big, bad Crabbe and Goyle, or the Slytherin team, but he can’t fight to save his life!”  
“To be fair, you seemed rather used to it.” Hermione looked down to the cauldron. Siria shot Hermione a short glare, which Hermione felt, even if she did not see.  
“More importantly” Siria transitioned “even if it is Malfoy, we need more proof. Mr. Malfoy’s got money, connections, and is apparently part of the school board.”  
“We’ve got the potion,” Ron pointed to it.  
“But we need to make the most of our time before then. We’ll only have an hour, right?” Siria asked. Hermione nodded. It made Siria uneasy. Her stomach was a mess of knots, felt empty, but hurt like she could collapse at any moment. She winced and wondered if the time limit was really causing it.  
“Ron, one of us should follow some Slytherins to their tower.” Siria suggested.  
“They may not even have a tower,” Hermione noted. “The castle is huge! For all we know, they could be in the dungeons.”  
“All the more reason to follow one!” Ron agreed with Siria. “Hermione, if you’d help me with my homework that night—”  
“Honestly, Ron” Hermione tsked. “Obviously.”  
After the attack on Colin, Professor McGonagall had suspended their Sunday use of her classroom. It was more of a blessing than an inconvenience though. Ron’s wand had gotten much worse; it made terrible hissing sounds and spat sparks whenever he tried a spell. Hermione and Siria agreed it was more time to prove Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin. Neville, however, was rather depressed about it. He had yet to produce a Shield Charm, but had finally managed to turn a beetle into a button last Sunday. Hermione had moved on to turning birds into goblets, and Siria was already practicing turning rabbits into slippers.  
Despite there not being a match until after the break, Siria had Quidditch practice. After they crushed Slytherin in the first match, Wood’s passion of winning had raised beyond expectation. Though they were excited about their win and wanted to continue, the rest of the team found the absence of Colin’s cheers to be rather depressing. It was especially hard on Siria. At least twice, she would break away from drills and hover over the spot he normally sat to cheer.  
Even with the chilling temperature and wind of the day, she knew he would have been there. His absence distracted her in practice, but fueled her desire to find out who was behind the Chamber of Secrets. Her heart sank when she locked eyes with Wood and he said nothing. When Colin had been well and she flew by to greet him or else tell him to go inside before he caught a cold, even though he’d never listen, Wood would always blow his whistle to call her back to the field. For Wood to know she wasn’t practicing her best every second and let her, had to mean that even he missed Colin.  
(Book: B2, 185 the amulet trade, Neville buying loads because he says he’s practically a Squib, & signing to stay for the holidays)  
When Wednesday’s mail rolled in, Siria was surprised to find that Sirius had not sent a Howler. Hermione, however, was far more excited that Sirius had sent the potion ingredients. She slid them into her bag while Siria opened the letter.

Dear Siria, I’m so very sorry you have to stay over Christmas. Remus and I have been looking at applicants, so I can be off next year. And yes, people have applied to work with us at our very boring Muggle job. If all goes well, I may be able to get Easter this year. Chloe is adamant that any new hire is completely trained before Remus or I do so much as step out of the office— can you believe her? Thank you for the photo of you and Hermione. I’ve added it to the wall. Colin did a great job. Be sure to thank him. “I will” thought Siria, “by closing the Chamber of Secrets.” Now, I just wanted to warn you that I may have gone a little overboard this year. Chloe and Remus also added some things, so don’t think I went too far overboard. It’s a healthy level of outdoing myself. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t wake up buried alive,” she sighed, but smiled. Don’t get too into any of the books until you finish Helping Hands. On the subject, once you finish the potion or balm you're making, I want you to send a sample to me. If it’s done right, that’ll be one less thing you have to show me you’ve learned. As I haven’t gotten any letters or photos of you holding someone’s hand, I’ll say you’ve stayed out of trouble. Good! If you’re doing to do something you shouldn’t, at least don’t get caught. Molly would probably rather I say don’t do anything reckless, she was still fuming about the brawl, but you have to what you believe is right. Just don’t go after anymore teachers— not even Snape. Love, Sirius  


Siria folded the letter up and put it in her bag. She would have to figure out when she could even make something from Helping Hands. Maybe she’d be able to talk Wood into stopping practice until after break. None of the other teams were still practicing, though what the other teams were or were not doing never seemed to affect Wood.  
(Book: B2, 188-193 Hermione puts the ingredients in & tells them it’ll be ready in two weeks. One week later, the Dueling Club begins. Snape pairs Siria Malfoy. When Lockhart counts down, Malfoy casts on two, and hits Siria rather hard)

“Mimble Wimble!” Siria shouted. Malfoy seemed to choke as his tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. He fought to cast something back, but it only made him choke harder. Siria lighted her head in silent triumph. She’d have to brag to Sirius how well that worked.  
(Book: B2, 192-193 Snape ends the spells because quite a bit of damage has occur. Lockhart says he should teach them how to block, and Snape volunteers Siria and Draco to demonstrate disarming and a shield, but Lockhart fumbles a complicated wand gesture he should be teaching Siria, by dropping his wand)

“Scared?” muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him (B2, 193). Siria scoffed.   
Forget about Lockhart’s block. She would show them what a real Shield Charm looked like. They took their positions, Lockhart counted down. Siria drew her Shield Charm and Malfoy shouted “Serpensortia!”   
(Book: B2, 194 It summons a large, black snake, which startles the crowd. Snape offers to handle it, but Lockhart steps in & makes it worse by zapping the snake, which heads for Justin Flinch-Fletchley)

“Don’t you dare!” Siria snapped at the snake as the Dursleys so often did her. The snake dropped, docile to the floor. Although she didn’t know how, Siria knew that it wouldn’t attack Justin now, but wanted to teach Malfoy a lesson. “Come here!” She pointed to the spot before her. The snake’s eyes fixed themselves on her. It seemed to be entranced by her voice. “Come on.” Siria knelt down and placed her hand on the ground. “I won’t hurt you.”  
The long black snake slid over to her. “There we go,” she told it. It rode up her palm and coiled lazily around her arm. Siria smiled at the snake then looked to Malfoy. A look of complete and utter horror on his face. “What?” She smirked, “I’m in Gryffindor. What kind of lion is afraid of snake?” But it wasn’t just Malfoy. Everyone else in the Great Hall was staring at her with similar wide eyes and similarly dropped jaws. Even Snape had lost his usual stone cold expression.  
(Book: B2, 194-5 everyone is rather freaked out, Ron & Hermione get Siria out of the Great Hall & back to their common room. Ron has the “you can talk to snakes”)  
“I know. I used to send off snakes from poor Mrs. Figg’s yard.” Siria told him. “Then, at the zoo, I accidently set a boa constrictor free so he could see Brazil.” Ron and Hermione looked at Siria in disbelief. For the second time since Siria had known her, Hermione seemed without words. Siria shifted, a little uncomfortably in her chair.  
“Well, I know Dumbledore said it was rare, but he and Sirius certainly didn’t seem as shocked as everyone else.”  
(Book: B2, 196-197 Salazar Slytherin is known for being a Parselmouth, & Siria remembers the Sorting Hat tried to put her in Slytherin)

Snow. Heaps and loads of snow, as if a blizzard hit over night, greeted Hermione and Siria the next morning. Herbology had been cancelled. Professor Sprout needed to tend to the mandrakes, and would trust no one else (B2, 197). Ron and Hermione sat in the common room playing wizard chest. Siria sat over a letter to Sirius that only had “Dear Sirius” written. She was starting to think she’d go stir crazy in the overly packed room.  
The black snake from yesterday had turned a little grey and almost ghostly. It held itself around Siria’s arm. She rubbed the snake’s forehead and wondered if there was something she could do to help it. Snakes didn’t usually look like this, or change color so quickly. It didn’t appear to be shedding its coa either. She had convinced it to eat some table scraps she’d snuck into her bag. Siria sighed. What was she supposed to do? Ask Snape how to take care of the snake he had tried to get Malfoy to sic on her?  
“Siria,” Hermione prompted without looking away from the chessboard, “Would you mind picking up Morphing and Metamorphosing for me? I don’t know if we’ll finish before Transfiguration. Besides, you may be able to find something about your snake.”  
“I can’t believe you’re keeping it.” Ron muttered.  
“Sure!” Siria agreed and ignored him. She stuffed the letter into her bag. “See you in class!” She told them.  
Perhaps a little too eager, Siria pushed through the crowded common room and climbed out of the portrait hole. The temperature suffered an immediate drop, and she considered going back to get a sweater. Siria, however, decided to continue forward, rather than pushing back through.  
(Book: B2, 198-199 Siria overhears some Hufflepuffs say that they think Siria is the Heir of Slytherin and that she’s got it out for Justin. Ernie tells the group the Voldemort probably came after Siria because he knew she was going to be a dark witch & didn’t want competition)

Siria looked to her ailed snake; had it been doing better, she may have convinced it to spook them. Instead, Siria stepped out from behind the bookshelf. She wore her best smile and the snake coiled around her arm. If she hadn’t been furious about their petty gossip, she could have laughed (B2, 199).  
(Book: B2,199 the terror of the Hufflepuffs, who look petrified)  
“Hello Ernie, Hannah, Megan, Wayne,” there was a certain satisfaction to watching them choke on the silence. “As Hufflepuffs are such hard working, helpful people, I was wondering if I couldn’t trouble you for a hand.” She held out the arm with her greying snake. Ernie scooted his chair back and knocked into Hannah.  
“I— I’ve got nine generations of witches of warlocks, so—” Ernie began (B2, 200)  
“So what? If I’m really Slytherin’s Heir, do you think I’d let people gossip about me in darkened corners of the library?” She snapped. There was something about how Ernie thought he was safe just because he could trace his heritage back a few generations that made her really angry.  
If Squibs happened and, like in Sirius’s family, got blasted off their tree, then for all they knew, Muggle Borns were just a line of Squibs that finally got the magic back. Ernie felt above reproach, just like Draco. Siria didn’t mean to let her smile slip into a glare, but it did. She was furious. Even if she had to break every rule in Hogwarts, drink essence of Crabbe or Goyle, and sneak into the Slytherin tower by herself, Siria was going to catch the real Heir.  
(Book: B2, 201-204 with Hagrid, Siria finding Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, Peeves finding Siria & him announcing that there’s been another attack and Siria did it. Professor McGonagall taking Siria to Professor Dumbledore)


	12. Under the Cloak

**Under the Cloak**   


(Book: 205 Fawkes looking like he’s dying, then bursting into flames and a pile of ash)  
“Your bird! I was just looking at it— I didn’t know you could kill something by looking at it.”  
“Not unless you’re a basilisk” Professor Dumbledore allowed a faint smile.  
“N— no,” at least Siria didn’t think she was.  
(Book: 205-209 Hagrid bursts in & says it couldn’t be Siria, Dumbledore knows it wasn’t Siria, and Hagrid leaves. Dumbledore asking if there’s anything Siria wants to tell him, and Siria thinking of Malfoy, the Polyjuice Potion, the voice, and the Hufflepuff’s gossip)

“I” Siria started, but her throat seemed to close up on itself. The snake gave her arm a weak squeeze. “My— my snake” Siria held her arm out where the snake seemed to be flaking away. “Malfoy used a spell yesterday, during the Dueling Club, and I brought the snake, but I think something’s wrong.”  
“Yes, Serpensortia. It would appear Mr. Malfoy’s Transfiguration is not quite up to manifesting a permanent one.” Professor Dumbledore informed her.  
“So I can just Transfigure it back to health?”  
“You can certainly try, but it may be best to use Vipera Evanesca, and let the snake rest.”  
Her green eyes looked to the pained eyes of the snake. The flaking had progressed and it was starting to look ashy. Its black was so pale it looked like someone had dumped the poor snake into a bag of flour. She sighed. “I suppose we can try this Vipera Evanesca thing.”  
When Vipera Evanesca hit the snake, there was hardly anything left. The remaining bit of snake seemed to wither before becoming the black smoke of the spell. It made her heart sink. As silly as it sounded, the snake made her feel like there was someone else on her side.  
“Um…” Siria looked around to the portraits that watched them. She eyed the parchment on Professor Dumbledore’s desk.  
“Please,” he told her and extended a quill. The eyes of the portraits made her stomach knot, but she took the quill. With a glance up at every word she wrote, Siria drew out:  
People think I’m the Heir of Slytherin.  
“They are wrong.” Professor Dumbledore assured her. She wrote the next line without looking up.

But I could be.   


“Siria, I can assure you, with full confidence, otherwise.” There was a smile in his voice that she did not look up to see. Last year, he had promised not to lie to her. Siria felt she owed it to him and his honesty to be honest, even if not completely open, here.  
Ron’s words echoed through her mind. Even if hearing voices wasn’t good, she heard them. Maybe, if she told Professor Dumbledore about it, he may be able to get Madam Pomfrey to help. Her heart trembled like it wanted to crumble. She wanted to tell him, but couldn’t.  
Siria placed the quill down. There was more to write, like the potion and what Malfoy said, but she didn’t want to be wrong. She would need to find the truth of these things herself. If Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin, despite what Dobby had said, she would bring the little brat down. If he wasn’t she would not stop until she found the real Heir.  
They stood in silence for a moment. He simply smiled at her the way Sirius did when she was having trouble with a spell. She lifted the quill back up. Siria closed her eyes and took a deep, full breath.  
If I can, could I enter the Slytherin dorm and look for the Chamber?  
“Siria, witches and wizards have searched for the Chamber” Professor Dumbledore began, but Siria put the quill back to the page.

And how many could talk to snakes? If my gift is rare, and Slytherin had it, what if he thought he was the only one? Wouldn’t he think that only his Heirs could have it?  


“Very well.” Dumbledore gave her a polite nod. “I will discuss it with your guardian.” Siria placed the quill down. Her hand trembled on the desk. Unless the Polyjuice Potion got Malfoy to tell them who the Heir was, Siria was going to scour the whole of the Slytherin dorm until she found the Chamber— with or without approval.  
“Siria, is there anything else you wish to tell me?” Professor Dumbledore asked. The twinkling light in his blue eyes was kind and welcoming. However, Siria’s green eyes stared past him. She was determined to solve this with Ron and Hermione.  
“No, Professor.” Siria was resolved. For Hermione, for Colin, for Justin, for everyone in Hogwarts and everyone that had yet to come, Siria would find and close the Chamber.  
(Book: B2, 209-210 with the terror of the student body, Fred & George making it known how ridiculous the thought of Siria being the Heir is by marching in front of her and announcing “Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, most students going home, and the term ending)

On the Sunday morning before break, Siria woke far too early to the sound of thunderous wind. For the first time since school had started, she woke before Hermione. It felt too loud to go back to sleep, so Siria got up. As she rolled out of bed, she found a letter on her bedside table. The fact it hadn’t come with the breakfast post made her feel it should be secret. She felt right. The parchment read a single line “Please meet Professor Snape in the Entrance Hall, under your Clock, at 9 o’clock tonight.” Even without a signature, Siria knew who wrote it; the letter was in the same font as one she got almost a year ago. The old letter was even more simple: just in case.  
Practice had finally been cancelled until the new year, but Wood was rather bitter about it. At breakfast, he complained so loudly that Professor McGonagall heard him at the staff table. She accused him of caring more about winning than his team’s health. Fred and George openly agreed with her, in a humorous manner that told Wood to shut his mouth before he got detention.   
The rest of the day, which consisted of visiting Hagrid and Hermione making them study in the library, past so slowly Siria felt evening would never come. After dinner, Hermione tried to coax Siria into reading Helping Hands, but she was sick of it. “If I have to learn one more healing spell this year, I’m going to have Dobby bewitch another Bludger, so I’ve reason to use it!” Siria snapped. She took to tinting her hair color, until it was the color she wanted. The method wasn’t quite how she wanted to change the color, but she eventually got her hair to the color and shade she wanted.  
When Siria, under the Invisibility Cloak, arrived at the Entrance Hall, Snape was there. He looked particularly annoyed, with a twitch on his forehead, just visible through his greasy hair. A small, green garden snake rested at his feet. It raised its head at the spot she was standing.  
“Can you see me?” She asked the snake, which slithered to her. She bent down and picked it up.  
“Be quiet, Potter.” Snape snapped. He led her down a stone staircase and to a stonewall. Snape gave an irritable click of his tongue. “Purest Ambition,” Snape told the wall.  
(Book: B22, 221 the Slytherin Common Room in all its green glory)  
Snape led Siria through the busy common room. They started with the Girl’s Dormitory. No matter where they were or what she said, nothing reacted to her. The garden snake seemed rather bored. Siria didn’t blame it; she had grown bored of telling a door that wasn’t anywhere to “open.” Snape led her to room after room through the Boy’s Dormitory.  
“Professor?” a bored voice Siria would know anywhere asked from within their room. Siria felt petrified. What if the Chamber were here? In Malfoy’s dorm room! That would have to be proof it was him. “Is something wrong?” Malfoy asked Snape.  
“Nothing, Draco. Just checking everyone is in their dorms.” Snape gave him a bit of a smile. Had Siria not been there to see it, she would not have believed.  
“Actually, Professor, if you have a moment,” Malfoy prompted. Snape gave such a small glance to Siria’s direction that she almost missed it. She hurried in before him and hoped that she could speak quiet enough that Malfoy couldn’t hear while being loud enough for the Chamber.  
She snuck along the walls of the room. Her eyes were fixed and focused on the snake while she whispered for the walls to open. Snape, to Siria’s great relief, talked just a little louder than usual, and Malfoy was as loud as ever. Siria tried under their beds, along the floor, and even circled the walls of the room twice. Then she waited for Snape to finish answering Malfoy’s question. To be honest, Siria rather hoped that Malfoy would work harder to beat Hermione than he had ever worked for anything, and that Hermione would beat him again.  
Finally having covered every nook and cranny of the Slytherin House, Snape led Siria to Professor Dumbledore’s office. She was exhausted and wanted to curl into a ball under the blankets and sleep. Siria pulled off the Cloak.   
Snape looked appalled. Siria fell back and decided to stay on the floor. It was already one in the morning. She gave a large yawn before she could ask “What?”  
“Your hair.” Snape growled.  
“Huh?” Siria pulled the long braid over her shoulder.  
The red hair looked just as it had when she left the Gryffindor common room. Even in the braid, it was obvious by the various loose strands that her hair was as messy as ever. She braided it often enough that Snape had surely seen it countless times. The Weasleys weren’t the only redheads, and red hair felt common enough to not be so surprising.  
“I didn’t do any magic in the halls.” She yawned again. There was something about sitting that made her realise how tired she had gotten. “Professor,” she looked up to Professor Dumbledore, “we searched every room and hall, but the Chamber wasn’t there.”  
“As I told you, Headmaster.” Snape said. Siria didn’t like his tone, but hoped that he may just be tired too. Snape pointed his wand at the garden snake Siria was still holding; it burst into black smoke.  
“Alas,” Professor Dumbledore smiled at them in a way that made Siria feel he was a proud parent. “I had hoped, but there is much more of the castle to search.” Search they did. Every night, Siria would walk around behind Professor Dumbledore or Snape. She had a different snake each night, and they would search until well at least one in the morning.  
There was more than once where Siria, tired and ready for sleep, would nod off for a moment and find herself alone in a corridor. Thankfully, the snake she received each night never seemed to tire; it would lead her down whichever hidden passage Snape or Professor Dumbledore had gone through. For as exciting as learning the castle was, it didn’t outweigh the feeling of defeat that washed over Siria each night.  
As much as a very small part of her wanted to write to Sirius that she probably knew Hogwarts better than him, she was too tired. Permanent looking bags grew under her eyes. She had nightmares about Slytherin’s monster every night. It petrified Hermione and ate the mandrakes. In them, Siria and Ron grew older while Hermione stayed petrified at age twelve forever. All the while, Draco and Lucius Malfoy laughed. From what Siria heard, Ginny Weasley and some of the first years were also suffering from nightmares.  
With classes during the day and searching for the Chamber of Secrets at night, she still felt more and more tired. Sometimes, she even felt more tired when she woke up than when she went to bed. She supposed it was because, even though she had learned more about Hogwarts in that week than in her first year and a half combined, they had not found the Chamber of Secrets.  
By Saturday, even with the nightmares, Siria completed their last night. Siria knew where all the Houses and every teacher’s office were. She felt she knew more secret passages than Filch. Ron had convinced her to draw out a map of the secret passages they could use for short cuts. Hermione had her add where the classrooms were— including ones they weren’t even taking. The knowledge of the secrets of Hogwarts did not outweigh the defeat of not finding the Chamber of Secrets.  
She sat on the floor of Professor Dumbledore’s office, as she had done at the end of each night. Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly and listened to every word of Snape’s complaint. She caught the start of “Headmaster, as I told you…” but tonight, as she had already heard most of it six times this week, Siria tuned him out. She was so tired. The defeat of not finding the Chamber and the lack of sleep had really hit her. If she could, she would spend all of break in bed.  
Finally, Snape finished with “... so unless Salazar Slytherin put the Chamber in a toilet, a Parselmouth cannot open it— as I suspected.”  
“Yes,” Professor Dumbledore stroked his beard. “So it would seem.” Siria felt Dumbledore’s eyes fall on her, but she kept her head down. It had been her idea to search for the Chamber of Secrets and nothing had come of it. There was a tiny bit of her that felt she should apologize, but a much larger part of her felt she hadn’t done anything to apologize for. Even though they had not found the Chamber of Secrets, they now knew it couldn’t be opened by a Parselmouth.

When the first Sunday of break rolled around, Siria tried to stay in her dorm; she felt more defeated than ever. She wanted the bed to swallow her whole, so no one would know how badly she failed them. Much to Siria’s dismay, Hermione had other plans.  
Hermione had insisted that they spend the entire day on homework. When Ron and Siria tried to protest, she clicked her tongue. “If you don’t want my help,” she began, but they immediately agreed to do it then. It was the most boring morning Siria had ever had. Ginny, who looked paler than ever, had been bullied by Percy into doing her homework with Hermione, Ron, and Siria. Percy had supervised them until Ginny was done, which mostly resulted in her looking even worse when they went down to lunch and dinner.  
Too early and too bright, Hermione ripped the blankets from Siria’s bed. She then dragged the tired and complaining Siria to Ginny’s room. Ginny looked even worse than Siria. Despite the fact the bags under Siria’s eyes had only gotten larger, her skin had not lost its overall glow of health. Ginny’s skin was paling and her veins were so visible, parts of her skin looked seethrough. Hermione bullied them into seeing Madam Pomfrey before breakfast.  
“Thank Merlin!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed to Hermione. She had Siria and Ginny covered in blankets. “Honestly, girls,” Madam Pomfrey shook her head, “you ought to thank Ms. Granger for being a good friend!” Siria did not feel thankful; she felt tired and sad, and her stomach hurt more than last time.  
Madam Pomfrey sat beside Siria’s bed with a clipboard. “Alright, dear, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” she smiled.  
“Nothing!” Siria groaned.  
“Siria Potter, do you want me to write to your Godfather?” Madam Pomfrey asked. Siria did not.  
“I’m just tired.” She murmured  
“Just tired?”  
“I don’t know!” Siria pulled the blanket over her head. “I’m just tired and my stomach has been hurting a lot.”  
“How often?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she wrote something on the clipboard.  
“I don’t know, a lot? Like, I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track of when my stomach hurts.”  
“Would you say the pain goes on for weeks?”  
“No?” Siria said, but felt more like she was asking. “Maybe for like a few days at a time?”  
“Every week?”  
“No. It’s…” Siria sighed and sat up. Her eyes fell on the curtains around Colin’s bed. “I guess it’s been about a month.” She didn’t need to tell Madam Pomfrey how she knew.  
“I thought as much,” and Madam Pomfrey smiled at her.  
Siria felt so uncomfortable. She just wanted to sleep. Instead, she settled for asking if there was anything Madam Pomfrey could do. It was the first time Siria had ever heard Madam Pomfrey laugh. For a moment, Madam Pomfrey stumbled off the stool then apologized. “Of course!” She exclaimed and hurried off.  
“Sorry you got dragged into this.” Siria told Ginny. Ginny just shook her head then ducked under her sheets. Siria sighed. She didn’t understand why Ginny disliked her so much. Then again, after Ginny tried to defend Siria, she wasn’t sure Ginny disliked her. “Are you liking Hogwarts?” Siria asked, but she didn’t get to hear Ginny’s answer.  
Madam Pomfrey had returned with a potion that resembled boiling chocolate. It smelled like bananas. “Here you are,” Madam Pomfrey pushed it into Siria’s hands. Siria looked at the boiling drink and to Madam Pomfrey. She knew she wasn’t leaving until she drank it, and figured it couldn’t be worse than the Skele-Gro or the Polyjuice Potion she’d be taking soon.  
The potion actually wasn’t bad. It felt like applesauce and tasted very strongly of peppermint. Once Siria took her first gulp, her insides warmed up. Something about it also made her feel awake for the first time since she started the hunt for the Chamber of Secrets.  
“Now, just come see me on the first day, and it’ll get you through the week.” Madam Pomfrey assured her  
“First day?” Siria asked,  
“Yes. Of your period, dear.”  
“What?” Siria tried to ask, but Madam Pomfrey kicked her out. Siria only got to catch the smallest glance of Colin, Justin, and Nearly-Headless Nick. “I promise,” she thought to them, “the Chamber of Secrets will be sealed.” Even if she had to suck up to Malfoy as Crabbe or Goyle, or even herself to find out where it was, she was going to.


	13. The Polyjuice Potion

**The Polyjuice Potion**   


Christmas morning, Siria woke up to Hermione calling her name. When she opened her eyes, she saw why. Hermione was already dressed and ready for the day. She had presents at the foot of her bed, still unopened.  
“The potion will be ready today.” Hermione told her. “We ought to open everything and wake Ron.”  
“Good plan,” Siria yawned. She blinked and looked to the window. “Hermione, what time is it?” Siria asked as she looked to her watch. It was five in the morning. Even with the potion from Madam Pomfrey, it was too early. She plopped back down, but shot up when Hermione hit her with a pillow.  
“Alright!” Siria snapped and snatched the pillow from Hermione’s grasp. “I’m up!”  
(Book: B2, 212 Hagrid’s treacle toffee, Ron’s Flying with the Cannons, Hermione’s quill, a new Weasley sweater and Christmas letter)  
Siria changed so she could put her Weasley sweater on. This year, Hermione had gotten one as well. “It’s a shame they don’t have letters,” Siria told Hermione.  
“Why?” Hermione asked and looked at the cherry red sweater she had on.  
“Because, if I was on your right, you could shush people silently.” Siria grinned. Hermione rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to be ‘SH’?”  
“Just open your last present.” Hermione told her.  
Siria’s last present was a trunk from Sirius. Like many of the things from Sirius, it was star themed. Constellations were connected in different colored lines across the silver alloy trunk. In the middle of the latches was a small, five pointed star with colored points, inside a circle. The trunk was almost half as tall as her other trunk, but a few inches longer and wider. “I suppose Sirius filled it to the brim,” Hermione suspected.  
“It’s just odd for him to send a smaller trunk than the one I have,” Siria noted. “Though, at least I’ll be able to bring all the gifts home.” She opened the letter pinned to it.

Dear Siria, Happy Christmas! May the trunk and its contents serve you well. Though I haven’t hired twenty assistants, we have hired five. Remus wanted to go for quality over quantity, but if I don’t get Christmas with you next year, we’re sending him dungbombs. Please write when you can. We all miss you. I miss you. Sincerely, Sirius  


Two wrapped boxes rested in the trunk. Each with a tag and name. There was one for Siria and one for Hermione. They tore the paper off to find matching accessory boxes. Hermione’s box had a mountainside at sunset, while Siria’s had the same landscape at night. The boxes were filled them with brushes, combs, hair pins, barrettes, headbands, and so many scrunchies that Siria felt set for life. Hermione’s had a small tub of hair cream, a straightener, and instructions for them. Siria had similar items, but a curling iron.  
“How are we supposed to use these?” Siria asked. For the first time, she realised that she didn’t know where a single plug in Hogwarts was.  
“Well, we can’t at school, but it is a rather nice gesture.” Hermione told her. “I hope I’ll be able to use them over summer.”  
“You probably won’t be able to use them all, though.” Siria noted.  
They loaded the hair accessories and tools back into the boxes. Siria placed hers back into the trunk, while Hermione placed hers on her bed. Hermione had the look of knowing she would sometimes get when she very sure of something, but didn’t want to say until she knew.   
“What?” Siria asked her.  
“Well, I’m thinking, but, of course, if it is, you’ll have to be careful.” Hermione told her, but Siria didn’t feel anymore informed. Siria sighed and leaned back. She looked over her glasses at Hermione. “Oh, very well.” Hermione closed the trunk and its latches. Then she turned the small star, from orange to amethyst. It clicked. Siria’s eyes widened. She and Hermione rushed to unlock the latches and open the trunk.  
It was empty, but not at all in the way one would expect. Siria’s jaw dropped. She stuck her hand in. Hermione held onto Siria’s other arm while Siria leaned into the trunk. “Hermione!” She shouted “There’s a room in here! Like, an empty storage room. It’s huge.” Hermione helped Siria up. “It’s got a little rope ladder, but it looks like it fell.”  
“Are you a witch or aren’t you?” Hermione teased. Siria rolled her eyes. The ladder could wait. They closed the trunk and turned from the amethyst to a point that was half blue and half pink. It was another room. Hermione gasped.  
The room was smaller than the last, but around the size of Siria’s room at the Dursley’s. It had stairs leading into it, which Siria and Hermione took. There was a cabinet of potion supplies, phials, bottles, and a cauldron. “Oh, I wish you’d gotten this sooner!” Hermione confessed. “It would have been perfect!” One of the walls was made entirely out of corkboard and filled with push pins, but only one sheet of paper.  
Sirius had written out “Helpful Spells for Around Cauldrons,” which mostly consisted of a list of ways to put out fires. It had a few on how to start fires and two on how to clean her cauldron out. There was a small note, at the very bottom, which read “When in doubt, ask.” It was simple and cliche, but made Siria smile.  
“This is really exciting.” Siria confessed as they opened the pastel yellow point of the star. They found a box for Ron, which Hermione gave up lifting. She pointed her wand at it and used the Locomotor Charm. Then they clicked the trunk closed and opened the fifth and final point, which was artic blue.  
It was another room. This room was rather cosy. Sirius had the walls sponge painted with scarlet and gold. He had put in four desk chairs and a small, round table. There was a bookshelf, which was mostly empty, but had a few of her books from his place. Much to her surprise, there were also two hammocks hung up. Siria felt it was a bit of a shame that Ron was in the boy’s dorm. They could have all practiced and studied in the trunk, but it would be rather odd to put it in the common room.  
Hermione climbed out of the artic blue room after Siria. “Sirius really does go overboard, doesn’t he?” Hermione asked. Siria’s stomach sank. Hermione quickly added “it’s all very lovely, and I’m sure he was able to enchant it himself.” Siria didn’t want to think about it. As grateful as Siria was, it meant that Sirius wasn’t ever allowed to go so much as a hair “overboard” for the rest of her life.  
The two grabbed Ron’s presents and headed to the Boy’s Dormitory. For as long as the girls had taken opening their gifts, Hermione had woken Siria up more than early enough for it to be reasonable for Ron to still be asleep. Hermione seemed to disagree though. She clicked her tongue.  
“Honestly Ron!” Hermione rolled her eyes, “how late are you sleeping in?” Ron pulled the blankets over him.  
“This the Boy’s Dorm!” He gasped.  
“Noticed.” Siria told him. She leaned against a bed next to his. With her wand still focused on the present, she had it hover onto his bed and drop.  
“I thought Sirius said you couldn’t get me anything else,” he said, but ripped the wrapping paper off.  
“He did. That’s from him, and maybe Remus and Chloe too.” Siria didn’t know for certain. Hermione placed her gift for Ron in the pile of other ones at the end of his bed.  
“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed. The box contained three new sets of robes, all of which were actually a little long on Ron. He had a few new pairs of jeans, some shirts, sweaters, and even some sets of pajamas. For some reason, Sirius had placed a false bottom on the box. It was obvious because the box was still far too heavy to be empty. The trio tipped the box upside down and removed it.  
“Why did he get you books?” Siria asked.  
“Why did he get me books?” Ron agreed. It was Hermione who found the note on the back of the false bottom.  
“They’re for all of us.” She told them. Siria flipped a few of the books over.  
“No. I think they’re for you.” Siria told Hermione. “Unless,” she looked to Ron and held up one of the books “you’re interested in Mastering Logic Through the Art of Exclusion.”  
“Yeah, Hermione. I think they’re for you.” Ron picked up another book, which, much like the book Siria was holding, was full of odd charts of boxes and “clues.”  
“Well, we can put them in your trunk, and share them.” Hermione concluded. She took to packing the books back into the box. “There was plenty of room on the bookshelf.”  
“Your trunk is too full from the Lockhart books, isn’t it?” Siria asked. Hermione pulled the book from Siria’s hands and did not answer.  
(Book: B2, 211-215 the Polyjuice potion just needs hair; Hermione had filled two small cakes with a Sleeping Draught; Ron & Siria get the hair from Crabbe & Goyle, take their shoes, and meet Hermione in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom)

“Alright,” Siria looked to them and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak, “Paper, Scissors, Stone?” The other two nodded. They tried going at once, but each of them picked a different one. When Siria went against Ron, he beat her with paper, and Hermione beat him with stone. Siria sighed and handed the Cloak over to Hermione.  
“Just, don’t gasp or anything— and you’ve got to keep an eye on the time, so we get out before the hour runs up.” Siria reminded her. She removed her watched and placed it into Hermione’s palm. “Sirius gave me that watch, so please—”  
“I will take the best care in the world of it,” Hermione assured her and put the watch on.  
(Book: B2, 216-217 the painful transformation of Siria into Goyle and Ron into Crabbe)  
With Hermione under the Cloak behind them, Siria lead the way back to the Entrance Hall. Her time with Malfoy last year, however short, felt priceless. She knew how little Crabbe and Goyle talked, that they only walked quickly to keep up with Malfoy, and they at least pretended to understand everything he said. As they climbed down the stairs to the stonewall, she wondered if asking about the Chamber would give them away.  
They reached the stonewall for the password. “Purest Ambition!” Siria told it. Nothing happened. She looked to Ron “They changed the password.”  
“Of course!” Ron, as Crabbe, groaned.  
“I suppose we’ll have to guess,” Hermione whispered. Ron and Siria sighed, but started guessing. Five minutes past before the wall revealed the door, and it wasn’t because they had guessed right.  
“There you are,” Malfoy tsked them. “Did you forget the password again or have you been pigging out in the Great Hall?” (B2, 220)  
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. Malfoy gave him a questioning look, but held the door open for them. They sat in some of the comfiest chairs in the common room. For a moment, they sat in silence. Ron and Siria only wanted to talk about the Chamber of Secrets, but didn’t know how to bring it up in a way that wouldn’t give them away.  
Just above the back of Malfoy’s chair, Hermione’s hand flashed two fingers then a five. They had already lost twenty five minutes. Malfoy must have noticed their wide eyes because he raised an eyebrow at them.  
“What is it?” He asked them.  
“Stomachache” Siria told him; it was the only thing she could think of, and seemed convincing enough because he accepted it.  
(Book: B2, 222-224 Malfoy tells them to go to the Hospital Wing and give the Muggle Borns a good kick for him. He goes to say that Dumbledore is keeping it out of the papers, Dumbledore is the worst thing that’s ever happened to Hogwarts, and that a decent Headmaster would have never let Colin in. Then Malfoy does a rather accurate impression of Colin taking Siria’s pictures and ending on “Can I lick your shoes Potter?” He calls Crabbe and Goyle out for not laughing, they laugh, and he accepts it as being fine. Then Malfoy vents he’s furious that people think Siria is Slytherin’s Heir, and how much Malfoy wishes he knew who the real Heir was so he could help them.  
The trio learn that the Chamber opened before Mr. Malfoy attended Hogwarts, and, last time, a Muggle Born died. This time, Malfoy hopes it’s Hermione)

In the seemingly empty air behind Malfoy, Hermione let out a gasp. Malfoy stood up and looked at the empty air behind his chair. Siria coughed and coughed her hardest as Goyle. She clutched her stomach and shot Ron a glare. Ron patted her back, which was not what Siria was intending.  
“Stomachache,” Siria groaned to Malfoy. He looked a little confused, but settled back into his chair.  
“Stomachaches don’t cause coughing fits. Are you sure you haven’t got the flu late?” Malfoy asked.  
“Dunno.” Siria felt this was a good answer. “But, uh, do you know who opened the Chamber last time?”  
(Book: B2, 224 Malfoy believes the person who opened it was expelled and sent to Azkaban [the wizard prison]; they learn the Malfoy Manor was raided, but nothing was found because they have a secret chamber beneath the drawing room)  
Hermione’s fingers appeared over Malfoy’s chair again. She waved her hand over it. Siria leaned onto Goyle’s knees. “Urgh,” she groaned, “stomach ache.”  
“Gotta get medicine,” Ron told Malfoy and helped Siria up.  
“Alright. Just don’t be too long.” Malfoy told them.  
(Book: B2, 224-225 They return Crabbe’s & Goyle’s shoes, and find themselves changing before they even make it back to the bathroom. By the time they reach the bathroom, they are completely themselves)

Siria stopped just inside the door of the bathroom and held out her hand to the invisible Hermione. Hermione pulled off the Cloak and put it in Siria’s hand. “No— I mean, thank you, but I want the watch.” Siria told her. Hermione slid the watch on Siria’s wrist and fastened it.  
“Well, at least I can tell dad to check under their drawing room,” Ron said(B2, 225).  
“Doesn’t do anything for helping up find the Chamber though.” Siria reminded him. They changed into their proper robes. The trio cleaned up the Polyjuice Potion and returned to the common room. As it was getting late, they retired to their dorms.  
“Hermione,” Siria sighed while she changed into her pajamas, “thank goodness you’re good at Paper, Scissors, Stone. What would you have done if you were Crabbe or Goyle?”  
“He said he hoped I die!” Hermione shouted at her.  
“Of course he hopes you do!” Siria exclaimed “Do you know how much his father has humiliated him over being beat by you in every exam? Malfoy studies until at least eleven o’clock some nights, and can’t beat you— a Muggle Born that he’s been told his whole life he should naturally be better than.” Hermione’s cheeks blushed.  
“Well, I suppose I ought to study harder, to really give him reason.” Hermione smiled.  
“Why do you think I’ve been studying more this year?” Siria asked, “I’ll knock that brat out of second place.”  
“If only we could get Ron to study too.”  
“‘Mione,” was all Siria had to say.  
“I know.” Hermione sighed and sat at her desk.  
Siria popped her trunk open to the artic blue point of the cozy room. “Locomotor Trunk!” she took her large, school trunk down the stairs and placed it by the bookshelf in the room. She spent much of the next hour on sorting her things from her trunk into the room.  
The two girls laid in their beds, thinking. Malfoy, as Dobby had said, was not the Heir of Slytherin. They were no closer to finding the Chamber than before Siria started looking with Professor Dumbledore and Snape. Siria confessed to Hermione, “you know, Professor Dumbledore said something weird when Colin was petrified. Professor McGonagall asked who, but Dumbledore told her that it wasn’t who, but how.”  
“How?” Hermione repeated.  
“Yeah.” Siria put her hands under her head and watched the ceiling, as if it would tell her how.  
“And you all searched the castle? I mean, of course you did. How?” Hermione murmured. She dreamily repeated “Not who, but how” well after Siria had fallen asleep.


	14. 14The Very Secret Diary

**The Very Secret Diary**   


For reasons she didn’t fully understand, Siria stood at the doors of the Hospital Wing. Hermione had a stomach ache and Siria managed to convince her to see Madam Pomfrey for it. Though Madam Pomfrey and Hermione welcomed Siria in, she had insisted on staying by the door. Siria wanted to check on Colin, Justin, and Nearly Headless Nick. She didn’t know why. Even as she rocked on the balls of her feet and leaned back, she knew they would be just as petrified as when she saw them on Christmas.  
Colin would have the same look of terror and amazement as when Professor Dumbledore first pried the camera from his petrified hands. The more Siria thought about it, the less she understood. There was something in the castle that petrified whatever looked at it, be it cat, student, or ghost. There was something in the castle walls that wanted to “rip and kill.” There may be a Chamber of Secrets. The thing that can petrify might be the same thing in the walls, which might belong to the Chamber of Secrets. Her stomach turned because they could also be three separate things she may have to deal with.  
“Honestly,” Hermione sighed, “I don’t know why you torture yourself.”  
“But what are we going to do?” Siria asked. “We’ve either got one monster that lives in the Chamber that can petrify people and wants to kill them, or we’ve got three monsters: one in the Chamber, one that wants to kill, and one that is petrifying people.”  
“I’m not really sure what would be worse” Hermione confessed. Siria kind of agreed. She didn’t want to fight three monsters, but also didn’t want to fight one murderous, petrifying one either.  
“You know, what if the monster that’s petrifying people is trying to kill them?” Siria asked.  
“Then we’re lucky it’s really bad at it.”  
(Book: B2, 228-229 Filch is heard shouting on the floor above them, water is flooding out of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, they learn that someone threw a book at Myrtle)  
Siria poked the soggy book with her wand. Hermione knocked Siria’s wand away. “What are you doing? Hasn’t seeing Ron’s wand spark all year taught you anything?”  
“Yeah, not to break my wand.” Siria retorted. Hermione looked less than impressed. She picked the book up and flipped through it. The pages were completely devoid of writing. They had dates at the top, but nothing else. Something about the diary felt immediately familiar. Siria couldn’t remember having seen it before, but it had a strangely comforting presence.   
“It’s from a place on Vauxhall Road, so they’re not pureblood” Hermione noted, “and belongs to T. M. Riddle.”  
“I know a riddle,” Siria smirked, but Hermione knew better.  
“Siria, what if it’s invisible?” Hermione’s eyes lit up. She was ready to tear the diary apart to find out what it knew.  
“I mean, it’s got to be interesting if someone tried to drown it, right?” Siria asked. Hermione seemed to agree. Siria took the book from Hermione and they headed back to the common room.  
Hermione was already going over the book with charms and a magical eraser when Ron showed up. For the first time they had known each other, Ron actually scolded them. Apparently Mr. Weasley regularly confiscated books that were cured. Siria rather felt that the book was safe to read because someone obviously had read it. Hermione stopped the conversation altogether by snapping at him with “Well, neither Siria nor I have had our eyes burned out, have we?”  
Although Hermione spent an hour pouring over the seemingly empty book, she found nothing. When she was finally done with it, she passed it to Ron. Ron acted like it was a hot potato and passed it to Siria. She flipped absently through the diary. If Hermione hadn’t found anything, there probably wasn’t anything to be found. Even if there was nothing to be seen, it didn’t change the fact that Siria liked holding it. She was so distracted by the diary that she didn’t notice Colin trying to get her attention or that Ginny had walked right by to the girls’ dorm.  
“T. M. Riddle” Siria sighed while she looked at the name. Like the diary, it felt familiar.  
“T. M. Riddle?” Ron asked.  
“Yeah?”  
“I know him.” said Ron. Siria rose her eyebrow at him.  
“You do?” Hermione leaned forward.  
“He got an award for special services to the school.” Ron informed them.  
“What was the service?” Hermione asked.  
“I don’t know; it was fifty years ago.” Ron told her. Siria and Hermione put their heads together.  
“You don’t suppose…” Hermione began,  
“That Riddle and his diary know about the Chamber of Secrets!” Siria finished excitedly.  
“Do you remember which award was his?” Hermione asked.  
“Yeah. I only had to polish the thing for an hour!” Ron groaned. He managed to convince them to look at the award tomorrow. Siria couldn’t believe Ron wouldn’t take up an opportunity to drop their homework like dungbomb, until she saw he was still working on his Potions essay.  
(Book: B2, 233-234 Siria can’t keep her hands off the diary. She finds herself flipping through it, pulling it out, and just generally rather attached to it, as if the diary were an old friend. T. M. Riddle was a prefect, Head Boy and got the award for unknown reasons.)

Hermione flipped Siria’s trunk to the cotton candy point of the star and led the way into the potion room. Siria ripped a page out of the diary and Hermione gasped and took the diary from her. “Did you just—” but there wasn’t a point in finishing her sentence because they both knew Siria really did just rip a page out.  
“I mean, were you going to hold the whole book over the fire?” Siria asked. Hermione still looked appalled, but only clicked her tongue at Siria.  
Siria stood at the small standing desk Sirius had built along the wall opposite the corkboard wall. She rested her arms on it while she flipped through Helping Hands. Sirius expected a new potion sample sent. It wasn’t at all fair. If she was just going to be tested over summer, he could wait until then. All of the potions were just as specific as Snape’s, with weird things like “turn twelve times with every third turn done clockwise.” She didn’t really see why it mattered if the potion was turned clockwise or counterclockwise.  
A gasp and flash of flame snapped Siria’s head around. Hermione had fallen onto the floor a few paces from the cauldron. Both the girls had pointed their wands to the fire, but nothing happened. The sheet of paper Siria had torn from the diary seemed to be completely fine. It looked perfectly not aflame. Hermione put the fire out and Siria removed the unburned page of the diary.  
“Looks like Riddle’s diary is special” Siria smiled at Hermione. They tucked the loose page into the diary and walked it over to the standing desk. Siria dipped a quill into a bottle of ink and looked to Hermione. She wanted to write, but didn’t know if they would help.  
“It is something we haven’t tried yet,” Hermione noted. Siria nodded and wrote a simple greeting of hello into the diary. She and Hermione gasped when the diary sucked up the ink and wrote back.  
“He’s terribly polite” Hermione remarked as Siria replied.  
“Hello Tom; we are Siria Potter and Hermione Granger.” Siria wrote.  
“Hermione, would it be too much to ask him what he got his award for?” Siria asked.  
“Siria, this is no time to ask that— write it” Hermione instructed and tapped the page where Tom’s reply had appeared.  
“He wants to know how we got his diary… do we tell him someone threw it through Myrtle?” Siria asked.  
“He may not know Myrtle, though.” Hermione reminded her.  
Siria settled and told Tom someone tried to drown it.  
(Book: B2, 240-246 Tom tells Siria and Hermione that he saved his memories in something more than ink and pulls them into the diary to show them what happened at Hogwarts fifty years ago: he wanted to stay for the summer, but with the death of the Muggle Born girl, Hogwarts may be closed, so Headmaster Dippet couldn’t possibly let Tom stay over summer. Tom then leads Siria and Hermione to the corridor by their Potions class, where they wait)

“Whelp” Siria plopped herself against a wall. It had been over half an hour, but Tom Riddle was just waiting. “This is the most boring adventure ever.”  
“At least we aren’t alone in it,” Hermione tried to be optimistic.  
“Yeah. I’d probably have restored to trying to blast my way out without you.” Siria confessed.  
“You are so strangely prone to violence.”  
“When it’s all you know, it’s what you go for.” Siria shrugged.  
“But now you know magic— and you are so sincerely sarcastic.”  
“Aww,” Siria smirked, “you’re sweet.”  
“Why do you suppose the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets wasn’t imprisoned?” Hermione asked. Siria shrugged,  
“Maybe there wasn’t enough evidence?” she suggested.  
“I suppose, if the monster escaped, then the person may have too.”  
“But, if they Heir and the monster escaped, why would they wait fifty years to return?”  
“Hmm…” Hermione hummed and seemed to drift off into her own thoughts. Siria placed her head on Hermione’s shoulder. She was bored and her interest in Tom’s accomplishment had faded.  
(Book: B2, 246-247 it was Hagrid! Tom shows Hagrid having a giant spider, the spider escaping, and Tom accusing Hagrid of having done it. Siria and Hermione are thrown out of the diary.)  
Brown eyes locked with green as the two girls found themselves on the floor of the potion room in Siria’s trunk. Together, they slowly shook their heads and said “no.”  
“Couldn't be,” Siria insisted.  
“Right” Hermione’s voice trembled.  
“Right?” Siria’s voice was much higher than she had intended it to be.  
“Oh, Hagrid.” Hermione shook her head more.  
(Book: B2, 249-250 Hermione, Ron & Siria debate if Hagrid could have done it. They agree that, as long as there isn’t another attack, they’ve no reason to ask him.  
Book: B2, 234-237 Valentine’s Day rolls around and Lockhart is pink, the Great Hall is pink and raining heart-shaped confetti. Lockhart has gotten some dwarfs to dress up as cherubs and deliver Valentines.)

With Colin petrified, Siria had not expected to get any valentines, but found herself rather surprised. By the time they headed to Charms, Siria had gotten two cards and a rose. On the way to Charms, she had the great misfortune of receiving a singing valentine in front of a group of first years and Draco Malfoy. She had smiled just as graciously as when she received the others, but deeply regretted not getting her Invisibility Cloak from their dorm during lunch.  
In the common room that night, Siria continued to look over Tom’s diary. For at least the tenth time, Ron asked why they didn’t just throw the thing away. Now that they knew Tom’s version of events, it didn’t make much sense to keep it, but Siria couldn’t seem to part with it. Someone wanted Tom’s side hidden and had tried to flush the diary down a toilet. It didn’t seem like Hagrid’s fashion, if he were guilty. Siria felt Hagrid was more likely to try and feed the diary to the eight-legged monster that had escaped than to drown it.  
“Sweet, Siria!” Lavender exclaimed over the back of Siria’s chair. “Are you writing in your diary in the common room?” Siria placed the empty, but open diary to her chest and looked at Lavender, without getting up.  
“No.” Siria tried to be as calm and plain as she could.  
“Surely, you’d share,” Lavender leaned over the arm of Siria’s chair. A group of first years had stopped their chatter to watch. Siria flipped the diary over and smiled at Lavender.  
“Surely, I would— were there something to share.” She fanned the empty pages at Lavender. “You’re welcome to take a read, if you’re bored and particularly interested in blank lines.”  
As Siria had expected, Lavender was no longer interested in the diary. She wasn’t as clever as Hermione and wouldn’t think Siria may have written it in invisible ink or other magical means. All the girls in their room new Lavender had a gaudy, sequined covered light purple, diary, which she kept in jewelry box inside her trunk. Although the jewelry box had a lock, none of them had seen Lavender use a key; either way, it could probably be opened magically.  
“She is such a gossip” Hermione clicked her tongue. Siria and Ron laughed to each other.  
“Yeah.” Ron agreed.  
“She’ll do her thing, we’ll do ours.”  
“You mean to say she’ll happily gossip while we seal the Chamber of Secrets!” Hermione snapped.  
“Of course.”


	15. Cornelius Fudge

**Cornelius Fudge**  


(Book: B2, 251-252 the second year students are selecting their electives)  
The first day they were given the sheet of classes, Siria gave it one look then she folded it up into a letter she wrote Sirius. There was no one’s opinion on it that she wanted more than his, except for maybe Hermione’s. However, Hermione listened to no one and signed up for everything. Ron had decided he would wait until Siria got her reply from Sirius and that they would probably sign up for whatever he recommended. They agreed to this because, if they were terrible, at least they would have someone to be terrible at it with (B2, 252).  
While she waited for Sirius’s reply, she had much more pressing things to focus on. Wood hammered the team with practices even harder than after the Howlers. George tried to argue that it was only Hufflepuff, and Fred added that the Hufflepuffs all think Siria is going to petrify them, but Wood didn’t seem to agree on either point. Whether the Hufflepuffs were afraid of her or not, Siria felt their chances of winning were really high.  
They didn’t just practice more than the other teams, Wood trained them efficiently. Fred and George had to beat a Bludger back and forth between them or else try and interfere with the Chasers. Siria spent much of their practices on flying maneuvers that Wood had found. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie all coordinated to get past Wood.  
Friday night, when Siria returned to the common room, Hermione nearly tackled her. She grabbed Siria by the arm and ran her to their dorm room, where Fay stood just outside. Someone had torn their dorm room apart. There were books, clothes, accessories, and trinkets all over the floor. Siria took a hesitant step into the room.  
“Is it only my things?” Siria asked. Hermione and Fay nodded.  
“I just got back, and” Fay gestured to the state of the room. “I got Hermione as soon as I could, but you were at practice.”  
“Yeah.” Siria knelt down beside a pile of haphazardly thrown clothes. She scanned the piles for a moment then sighed. “Hermione… I think we ought to visit. Sooner, rather than later.”  
“Siria—”  
“No.” Siria bit her lip. “I mean, someone took Tom’s diary.”  
“You can’t be certain,” Hermione assured her. She started to pick up Siria’s clothes and put them on her bed. “It’s such a mess; anything could be missing.”  
“Hermione’s right!” Fay quipped in and started to round up Siria’s books.  
Although she wasn’t sure how she knew, Siria knew the diary was missing. The room had felt more friendly or comfortable or lively when she left to practice, not unlike how Siria usually felt when Ginny was around. There was more to her current state of discomfort than that a Gryffindor girl had gone through her things. Siria closed the empty trunk and rotated the star from pastel yellow to each of the other points. If nothing else, the girl who had gone through had either: 1) only come for the diary and found it rather quickly; or 2) didn’t know Siria’s trunk was special and took the diary thinking it was Siria’s. She rather thought it was the first one.  
Fay and Hermione helped Siria collect her things and load them back into the trunk. When Siria snapped the trunk closed, she rested on it for a moment. With the diary gone, it felt like she was missing something so much more. Just as it had felt like an old friend when she had it, it felt like she had lost a friend with it gone.  
“It’s a little funny that you keep a trunk inside a trunk,” Fay smiled.  
“It’s easier to carry it.” Siria replied as she clicked the trunk shut.  
“Because we do so much of that here.”  
“You know, Fay, I was wondering if you needed any help with the Charms homework” Hermione interrupted.  
“Actually,” Siria stopped them, “Hermione, I could use a hand.”  
After the musical valentine fiasco, Siria had taken to keeping her father’s Invisibility Cloak in her school bag. She emptied out most of it and led Hermione out of their room. They threw the Cloak on at the bottom of the stairs. Ron was playing Exploding Snap with Fred. Hermione waved over the back of Fred’s chair. A little too obviously, Ron froze then yawned when Fred and George turned to look at what he was watching so wide-eyed.  
“Tired.” Ron told them. Hermione and Siria followed him into the staircase. “What’s going on?” Ron asked at they threw the Cloak over him.  
“Shush,” Hermione told him. “We’re going to see Hagrid!”  
“Now?” Ron asked. Siria pressed her hand to his mouth.  
“Be quiet!” She snapped as quietly as she could. “Someone trashed our room for the diary— I’m not taking any chances.”  
Though Hermione and Ron shared a looked of shared concern for Siria, they silently agreed. Together, the three crept along the corridors, out to the grounds, and to Hagrid’s hut. Hermione gave Siria a look that asked “are you sure?” and Siria knocked on Hagrid’s door in reply. “If it would keep you safe, I’d eat my broomstick.”  
Hagrid opened the door. Ron announced them and they entered the cabin. Hermione pulled the Cloak off them as Siria launched into dialogue. Though Hermione attempted to interrupt her, Siria just took to raising her voice over Hermione’s.  
“Why did Tom Riddle think you opened the Chamber of Secrets? Did the spider in the cupboard even see the girl that died? Where did the girl even die? And do you know what’s in the Chamber?”  
In silent shock, Ron threw his arms in the air to announce his disbelief. He shook his head and plopped himself into a chair. Hermione sighed. Her head sank to her chest as she shook it. Hagrid looked as if he’d just been clubbed over the head, and none of them blamed him. Determination radiated from Siria’s eyes as she looked up at him.  
“Blimey, Siria, wha’s all this ‘bout?” Hagrid asked. Siria crossed her arms over her chest. She would not be moved. In a more usual tone, Siria repeated the line of questions. Hagrid scratched the side of his scruffy face and sighed.  
“Aragog never hurt no one.” Hagrid told her.  
“The spider?” Siria asked. Hagrid nodded.  
“Lemme make yer some tea— i’s a long story.” He told them.  
Hermione and Siria joined Ron at the table while Hagrid prepared some tea. Both Ron and Hermione looked at Siria like they wanted to push her out of her chair. Under her breath, Hermione hissed that she couldn’t believe Siria, but Siria insisted that being as forward as possible was best. Hagrid placed the cups of tea before them and sat.  
“How did yer find out?” Hagrid asked them.  
“Hagrid,” Siria placed her seemingly babydoll like hand on Hagrid’s massive manhole like one, “I know you did not open the Chamber of Secrets.” She assured him. “Professor Dumbledore trusts you to do the most important things, and he wouldn’t trust someone that went around petrifying people.” Hagrid only nodded.  
“But why did Tom think your spider—” Siria circled back to her questions.  
“Aragog.” Hagrid told her.  
“Why did Tom think Aragog did it?” Siria asked.  
“Dunno, but everyone thought so too an’ there weren’t any more attacks.”  
“Because if someone was accused, it would have been the perfect time to stop!” Hermione quipped.  
“Yeah! If they attacked anyone, people would know it wasn’t you and keep looking for them.” Ron added.  
Though it took awhile for them to get the whole story out of Hagrid, he didn’t pretend to become deaf, as he usually did on the topic of his expulsion, at any point. Aragog had been given to Hagrid by a traveler. Through table scraps, Hagrid was able to keep Aragog well fed. Aragog knew of the Chamber’s monsters, but won’t tell Hagrid. Even after all this time, Hagrid doesn't know what lives in the Chamber of Secrets.  
On the night Hagrid was accused, he had brought Aragog food, as he always did at that time. Aragog was able to run away, into the Forbidden Forest, where he still lives. Hagrid was expelled, as they knew. Dumbledore was able to convince Headmaster Dippet to let Hagrid stay on as groundskeeper. “Good man, Dumbledore,” Hagrid told them with tears in his eyes.  
“Did you want to meet him?” Hagrid asked. He got to his feet before they could reply. Siria looked to her watch.  
“We’d love to, but it’s so late” she told him. Siria knew Ron would probably rather have all his teeth pulled than go into the Forbidden Forest, at two in the morning, to meet a giant spider.  
“Maybe some other time,” Hermione nodded and got to her feet. The three collected themselves and pulled the Cloak over.  
It wasn’t until they returned to the empty common room that any of them spoke. As Siria pulled the Cloak off, Ron burst out in disbelief.  
“Visit the spider?” He cried. “He’s mad!”  
“But he didn’t open the Chamber of Secrets,” Siria sighed. She plopped herself down into one of the many arm chairs. “Not who, but how…” she repeated Professor Dumbledore’s words, which made about as much sense now as they did before.  
“Do you suppose it’s Lockhart? Trying to make himself look like a hero?” Ron asked.  
“Ron!” Hermione snapped. “He really is a hero. There’s no way it’s him.”  
“Well,” Siria shrugged to Ron, “there really is no way it’s him. He doesn’t seem old enough.” She considered adding he didn’t seem clever enough to make the plan, but decided against it. Hermione’s brown eyes were fixed with rage at Ron, and Siria didn’t want them directed at herself.  
“We can figure it out after the match.” Siria announced. “If I don’t get some sleep, I’ll fall off my broom.” Hermione and Ron agreed. Ron parted for the boy’s while Hermione and Siria made their way up the girl’s staircase. Long after Siria had drifted to sleep, Hermione thought and murmured “Not who, but how” and “why Tom?”  
(Book: B2, 254-257 There are perfect Quidditch conditions, but Siria hears the disembodied voice in the walls, Hermione thinks she’s figured it out and goes to the library. Siria gets ready for the match, which is stopped almost the moment it is started. Professor McGonagall brings Ron & Siria to the Hospital Wing, where Hermione & a Ravenclaw prefect are petrified)

“I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…” (B2, 257)  
She was holding up a small compact with a sun. Siria nodded and reached for the mirror, which Professor McGonagall handed to her. Her voice failed her. She knew this mirror; she had one just like it, but of the moon. Blindly, Siria reached into her Quidditch robes, but her own mirror wasn’t there.  
“We” Siria’s voice was so quiet and weak. It didn’t feel like her own her voice. Siria was loud; Malfoy would complain, all the time, about how Siria was so loud he could hear her across the Great Hall. This wasn’t that voice. In the silent Hospital Wing, Ron and Professor McGonagall strained their ears to hear her. Her eyes fell on Hermione’s terrified face, which looked to her raised hand and partially parted fingers.  
The sun compact slid into Hermione’s grasp. It was just a little too loose to hold it. Her other hand was balled into a poor fist. Siria’s knees struggled to support her. They chattered and she wanted to collapse. She wanted to ask “why couldn’t you have waited?” but knew, if Hermione had waited, the other girl may not be petrified and may be dead.  
“I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” Professor McGonagall began (B2, 257), but Siria shook her head. She took hold of Hermione’s extended arm.  
“I c—can’t leave—her” she managed to choke out.  
“Potter, I need to address the other students.”

“But ‘Mione,” Siria tried to protest. The Hospital Wing got cold at night. It was so quiet here that it sometimes felt creepy. Hermione was petrified; she couldn’t be able to tell anyone if she was cold or scared.  
“We have to stay!” Ron told Professor McGonagall, but she would not have it.  
Back in the common room, Ron and Siria sat without hearing. They were told not leave their dorms, to be escorted to each class by a teacher, and that, unless the culprit is found, Hogwarts may be closed. Lee Jordan voiced that it was obviously a Slytherin because that was the only House not attacked. George told Ron and Siria that Percy was in shock because the Ravenclaw girl was a prefect. Siria didn’t care about their suspicions or Percy’s shock— Hermione was petrified and it happened right after someone took Tom’s diary. (B2, 257-259)  
Her fingers ripped her hair into a mess of braid. Then Siria leaned in and whispered to Ron “I’m getting my dad’s Cloak and my broom, and I’m going to see Hagrid.” He nodded. The common room cleared a little and Siria went to collect her things. Lavender and Parvati stopped talking when she walked in. For once, Siria truly and honestly didn’t care.  
When she returned to the common room, Ron was waiting. She followed him to his room, where he grabbed his broom. With all the ruckus and debates, no one noticed a window open. Siria slid through first. She had to let the Cloak roll off her, so Ron would stay covered. Once he managed to squeeze through, he opened the Cloak. She flew under and they went down to Hagrid’s hut.  
“Why couldn’t we just have walked?” Ron asked as Siria knocked.  
“It’s faster this way,” Siria replied and removed the Invisibility Cloak. She and Ron jumped back when Hagrid greeted them with a crossbow. He confessed to be expecting someone else, but led them inside.  
“Hagrid, are you alright?” Siria asked. She took a seat at the table.  
“Fine, fine. Lemme make yer some tea.” Hagrid offered.  
“Did you hear about Hermione?” Ron asked as he sat beside Siria.  
“Yeah. Awful.” He agreed. Hagrid fumbled around for a kettle. Ron leaned into Siria.  
“Why did you want to come again?”  
“Look how nervous he is! He greeted us with a crossbow” Siria whispered through clenched teeth. “We’re moral support. Besides, I’ve got one more question for him.”  
Hagrid poured them boiling cups of water. He’d forgotten the tea bags. Though Siria wanted to think her words over more, she asked “Hagrid, where in the castle did the girl die?”  
“Galloping gargoyles!” He cried and knocked his cup of boiling water onto the floor. Siria pointed her wand and cast the repair charm. Much like when Hermione had repaired Ron’s wand, there were cracks in the cup. She placed the cracked cup on the table.  
“Hagrid, if we can prove you’re innocent, you won’t have to be so worried.” Siria pleaded and she hoped that wherever the girl had been found was far enough from where Aragog had been kept. Hagrid tsked. His tiny eyes poked through his bush of hair at her.  
“I don’ know if it’ll help yer or not, but she died in a bathroom.” Hagrid looked at the cracked up. He sighed then looked back to Siria. “Poor M—” but a knock sounded at the door. Siria dove for the Cloak. Ron poured their boiled water back into the kettle. She threw the Cloak over the two of them and their empty mugs. They pulled into a corner just as Hagrid opened the door.

(Book: B2, 260-264 & 282 Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge [the Minister of Magic] were at the door. Fudge is taking Hagrid to Azkaban because no one else was ever caught for the attacks and the Ministry has to look like they’re doing something. Lucius Malfoy shows up, insults Hagrid, and tells Dumbledore that he & the other governors are issuing an Order of Suspension, which removes Dumbledore from Hogwarts. Dumbledore tells them that they’ll find, as long as one person is still loyal to Dumbledore, he will never truly leave the school. Hagrid announces that someone will need to feed Fang. Ron & Siria figure out that Moaning Myrtle may be the girl who died)


	16. The Chamber of Secrets

**The Chamber of Secrets**   


(Book: B2, 283-290 With teachers escorting them to class, they can’t break away to the bathroom; they learn they’re going to have exams, which isn’t something anyone feels prepared for. The Mandrakes are ready and the petrified people will be better soon. Ginny comes to tell Ron & Siria something, but Percy ends up sending her off to take her seat, so he can eat. Siria & Ron convince Lockhart to let their class walk themselves; the two sneak off, but are caught by Professor McGonagall. They tell her they were going to see Hermione, which she lets them do, where they find a crumbled up sheet from a book in Hermione’s hand. The paper reveals it is a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.)

And beneath this, two things had been written in Hermione’s handwriting, “Pipes” and “Tom?” (B2, 290) Ron exclaimed that, if the basilisk is a giant serpent, it makes sense Siria is the only one who can hear it (B2, 290). She found herself not aware of him. Hermione’s writing of “Tom?” The fact that Hermione suspected Tom hit Siria like a blow from a Bludger. He had known about Aragog; he knew about the monster, but still wanted to stay. She crumpled Hermione’s note and placed it in her pocket.  
(Book: B2, 291-295 Ron & Siria figure out that no one looked directly at the basilisk, beside Nick [who can’t die again]. They rush to the staff room, when Professor McGonagall announces for students to go to their dorms. The two learn Ginny has been taken and that Lockhart has been saying he knows where the Chamber is & what’s in it, so the teachers tell him he can go save Ginny. Fred, George, Ron, & Siria sit together in the common room.)

For awhile, the four sat in silence. In her robes, Siria held Hermione’s crumpled up page. It weighed on her, but not in a defeated way, like an urge. She pulled her bag off the floor, pulled out some parchment, a quill and ink bottle. In what may have been her sloppiest penmanship yet, she wrote a short letter.

Dear Sirius, We’re going to save Ginny— at least help Lockhart know what to expect. I’m sorry, but also not. Love, Siria.  


Almond shaped green eyes fell onto Ron’s face. “Let’s go tell Lockhart what we know.” She told Ron. Fred and George, uncharacteristically silent, looked at her. “Ron and I know what’s in the Chamber of Secrets, where it might be, and who might be the Heir. Are you coming?” She placed the items in her bag, which she left on the ground beside her chair. Ron nodded. Siria left the letter on a table as the four of them left.  
(Book: B2, 295-296 they leave the common room and go to see Lockhart)  
Although light from the setting sun broke into the castle, it felt dark and eerie. No one else, not even one of the ghosts, was in the halls. The four of them had to take care to tread quietly through the red-orange lit vacant halls. They made it to Lockhart’s office without being caught. There was a bit of ruckus on the other side of the door. It sounded like things were falling or else being thrown.  
Fred knocked and silence fell over the office. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart’s eyes peering through (B2, 296). While Lockhart told them he was busy, George was able to squeeze his foot into the crack Lockhart made in the doorway. Together, Fred and George pushed the door open.  
“Packing?” George asked Lockhart.  
“Seems a strange way to prepare for the Chamber of Secrets.” Fred noted and picked up one of Lockhart’s books that had been haphazardly thrown into a trunk with some other books and trinkets.  
“What about our sister?” Ron asked (B2, 297).  
“Urgent call— no one regrets more than I—” Lockhart tried to lie. Siria turned to audibly tsk at one of his posters; she pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it to the ground.  
“Always knew you were a sham” Fred told Lockhart.  
“How did you find the time for all those lies?” George asked. Lockhart broke off into a desperate monologue. Over his own voice, he couldn’t hear Siria whispering again and again “Serpensortia!” with her wand pointed as firmly as she could at the ground.  
Finally, a long, black snake, similar to the one Malfoy had summoned at the Dueling Club, appeared at her feet. Lockhart complained about the hairy chinned witch that banished the Bandon Banshee too loudly to hear Siria. “Wait by him” she instructed the snake. It slithered to the rim of the room and took its time. He was too occupied with clearing the walls and cramming things into suitcases, but Ron noticed. Siria placed a finger to her lips in a silent “shush” and he nodded. They weren’t going to let him run away, and he wasn’t about to let them go after Ginny after he’d told them he didn’t do any of the things in his books.  
Just as Lockhart had finished telling them about how he was good with Memory Charms and even prided himself on them, he turned on them with his wand. “Expelliarmus!” Siria shouted before Lockhart knew what hit him.  
“Accio!” Fred shouted and Lockhart’s wand flew into Fred’s hand. He passed it to Siria, who pocketed it. They all focused their wands on Lockhart. “Now!” Siria hissed and the snake, which had flanked Lockhart gave a loud, screeching hiss. Lockhart stumbled to his knees in the middle of all of them.  
“But— but I don’t know where the Chamber is!” Lockhart pleaded with them.  
“We do!” Fred told him.  
“Right?” George whispered to Siria. She nodded.  
“We know where it is and what’s in it” she hoped, at least. If they didn’t, Siria was quite sure they would go back over every inch of the castle. She would make an entire army of snakes to spread out and search.  
Fred and George led Lockhart out of the room by wand point. The black snake coiled up Siria’s arm, and they headed for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.  
(Book: B2, 298 They led Lockhart to the bathroom, learn how Myrtle died, and the sink, which has never worked)

“Snape is going to be mad” Siria smiled. She locked eyes with the snake and stood before the snake engraved brass tap. “Open!” Siria commanded.  
(Book: B2, 298-302 Lockhart goes first then they all continue down and in. Ron sees something up ahead)  
From the pocket of her robes, Siria withdrew two small mirrors; the matching ones she and Hermione had received over Christmas. She extended the night time mirror to Lockhart. “Go on,” she instructed. “You’ll only be petrified and will be cured tomorrow.” Lockhart’s knees clattered together. He looked as if she were holding out an angry Cornish Pixie or something worse.  
“You heard her,” Ron added as Fred poked Lockhart in the back with his wand. Lockhart shuddered as he took the mirror.  
He was not petrified, but seemed horrified at whatever he had seen. “Honestly,” Siria tsked. She placed her palm to the ground. The long, black snake uncoiled. “Is the other snake sleeping or dead?” she asked it. It slithered away.  
“With how it smells,” George waved under his nose,  
“Let’s hope it’s dead.” Fred grimaced.  
“No kidding,” Ron agreed. He patted Siria’s shoulder. It made her smile. If anything, she should be comforting him, but felt he was trying to comfort her. His hand was warm and reassuring.  
The black snake slithered to Siria’s feet. “Skin,” it hissed at her. While she picked up the snake, they continued onward. Fred and George pocketed some of the massive snake skin, which Siria couldn’t understand why they’d want it. It smelt like toxic vomit and was a very poisonous looking green.  
(Book: B2, 303 Lockhart pretends to fall to steal Ron’s wand, which he uses to have backfire on him. The cave collapses and separates them)

The wall of rubble and rock left her petrified. Her last words to Sirius were basically “sorry, not sorry” and he wouldn’t even get them until tomorrow. George’s voice called out to her. For a moment, she couldn’t find her own.  
“Siria!” George called again.  
“Hello?” Fred called.  
“Here!” She tried to yell, but her voice came out much quieter. “I’m here.”  
“We’re all okay” Ron assured her from the other side of the wall. There were sounds of tiny pieces of rubble settling.  
“Except, maybe Lockhart” Fred added. Siria looked to the cracks in the ceiling; she didn’t want to think about getting out, or the fact she might find Ginny and they’d both be trapped.  
“Git got blasted by Ron’s broken wand,” George told her.  
“Thank goodness for that brawl then, right?” Siria tried to joke.  
Something about stroking the top of the snake’s head was comforting. To have it meant she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t carrying on alone. Ginny was waiting. There was a thud and an “ow!” as if someone had just kicked Lockhart in the shins (B2, 304)  
“I’m going on ahead!” Siria shouted. Her voice felt confident; it didn’t tremble like before.  
“We’ll move the rocks” Ron assured her.  
“If I…” Siria began, but couldn’t find the words. “Just tell Sirius….” she tried, but the words were caught in her throat. If there was even the slightest chance she could save Ginny, she couldn’t be sorry. She wasn’t sorry.  
“We’ve got this!” Fred told her through the sounds of some rubble moving.  
“We’ll be after you soon!” George added.  
“Right!” Siria nodded. She turned away from the wall of rocks. Siria closed her eyes and took a deep, swelling breath.  
(Book: B2, 304-305 Siria continues on and comes to a door of two serpents)

While the serpents parted, Siria placed the snake on the ground. “When they come through, if the door closes, open it for them” Siria instructed the snake. It nodded at her. The green eyes blinked with understanding. She almost felt like it was worried for her. The snake coiled up beside where the wall had been. Even from here, she could feel the friendly presence that seemed to surround Ginny. Siria, her hand trembling on her wand, marched inside.


	17. The Heir of Slytherin

The Heir of Slytherin  
(Book: B2, 306-307 At the feet of a giant statue of Salazar Slytherin is Ginny. She’s white & cold, but her eyes are closed; Ginny is passed out and dying, but not dead. Tom Riddle, though he’s fuzzy around the edges, like he’s being seen through a blurring filter, is there)

“Tom?” The moment the word left her lips, she remembered the last thing Hermione had written the parchment. Hermione had also wondered about Tom. Siria scooped Ginny up and began to cross the Chamber.  
“Where are you going without your wand?” Tom asked. It made Siria pause. He held her wand in his blurry, misty lit fingers.  
“You’re welcome to bring it along,” she snapped back. Ginny was smaller than Siria, but not by enough. Siria’s knees were struggling to keep them both up and she had to focus on the path she came.  
Tom continued to stand with Siria’s wand. His eyes never left her. She could feel them following her as she walked on. “You knew Hagrid didn’t open the Chamber of Secrets, didn’t you?” Siria asked. She began walking diagonally, so she could lean Ginny along the wall, if she needed. Even if it wasn’t her wand, she did have Lockhart’s in her pocket.  
“Well,” the smirk in Tom’s voice sent shivers down Siria’s neck. She knelt down and sat Ginny up against the wall. “It was my word against his,” Tom told her. Siria’s fist shook with anger. Her nails dug into her palms. “You can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet…” he went onto compare himself to Hagrid. Tom’s eyes watched Siria’s glare with a twisted excitement as she stomped back toward him. He thought he was so great for being a prefect and because he acted the part of a model student.  
Hagrid had gotten into trouble. Of course Hagrid had gotten into trouble! Where Hagrid was kind, Tom was manipulative. Siria had half a mind to whip the wand out of her pocket and petrify Tom, but he said something to give her pause.  
“Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did,” he told her (B2, 312). Siria felt like Tom just confessed his greatest regret to her. She placed her hands in her pockets and raised her head high. Her hand wrapped around Lockhart’s wand and suddenly she realized something. The feeling of a friendly presence wasn’t coming from Ginny, who was behind her, but the diary or Tom, who were before her.  
Siria’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She couldn’t remember knowing when Ginny was around while Siria had the diary. It felt as though her throat was closing on itself. Back in Borgin & Burkes, she had felt it there, when Malfoy and his father came in. Her hand trembled on the wand in her pocket, but Tom seemed to think she was growing paler from listening to him, rather than her silent realization.  
(Book: B2, 310-313 Tom Riddle explains he had manipulated Ginny into releasing the basilisk, killing the roosters, writing her own farewell message on the wall, and coming down into the Chamber of Secrets. Here, as Ginny becomes more weak, Tom will become more strong, and he is looking notably less blurry. Tom’s lost interest in killing Muggle Borns, and has grown interested in Siria because Ginny has told Tom all about how Siria beat Voldemort.)

“I have so many questions for you, Siria Potter.” (B2, 313)  
“Funny, I don’t have any for you” she quipped. Tom gave a rather sinister smile. He looked to be fifteen or sixteen, as he had in the diary, but he looked lighter than Dudley. She felt there was a chance, with how focused he was on her face, that she could get close and get her wand then the diary. If it was the last thing she did, Siria was going to destroy that diary.  
“Tell me, Siria Potter, how did you— a skinny girl with no extraordinary magical talent— manage to defeat the greatest wizard of all time…” and Siria cut him off  
“I’ve never beat Dumbledore” she told him as flatly as she could. Siria walked toward Tom, unlike Malfoy, he didn’t step back when she got close.  
“Voldemort is the greatest wizard—” but Tom didn’t seemed used to people talking over him. Siria knew only one person that was louder than her, Dudley; teenage Tom Riddle was no match her echoing shout of “DUMBLEDORE IS THE GREATEST WIZARD OF ALL TIME! VOLDEMORT IS LIKE OLD GUM ON THE SIDEWALK COMPARED TO DUMBLEDORE!” Siria couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The louder she was the more Tom looked like he was going to hit her. She dared him to— she was prepared to hit him first.  
Silence rang through the Chamber when the echoes of Siria’s last word “Dumbledore” finally stopped. There was an odd red gleam in Tom’s hungry eyes (B2, 313).  
(Book: B2, 314 Tom reveals he is Voldemort and wanted everyone to fear him.)

Anger boiled up from the roots of Siria. Before he had revealed his other name, Siria’s fingers were so cold they hurt, now they felt on fire. All of her felt like she was on fire. Tom Riddle, an orphan, grew up to make Siria. He grew up to raise an army of people that murdered and tortured over a petty thing like who their parents were, how “pure” their blood was.  
“You died!” Siria reminded him through gritted teeth. She slid Lockhart’s wand from her pocket into her sleeve. “Albus Dumbledore remains the greatest wizard of all time because you got killed by me! A CHILD! A BABY!”  
(Book: B2, 314-316 Siria tells Tom that Dumbledore isn’t really gone and Tom tries to argue, but stops. Fawkes the phoenix lands on Siria’s shoulder and has brought Siria the Sorting Hat. Tom mocks Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, he asks if Siria feels safe or brave now, not knowing that she does. He tells her that she’s beat him twice, and he needs to know. “The longer you talk, the longer you stay alive.”)

“Ginny didn’t tell you?” Siria asked him. She tried to keep the courage in her voice. “With what you were saying, I’d have thought she told you the whole story.” Siria tsked and waved it off, as if everyone knew how she survived. For a second, Tom’s gaze left her face to fall on her waving hand, and it was all she needed.  
“Expelliarmus!” Siria shouted with Lockhart’s wand at Tom. Her wand jolted out of Tom’s grasp and she caught it.  
“No one knows why, do they?” Tom hissed the words through clenched teeth.  
“No— everyone knows why.” She casually held the wands. Siria felt the diary was what kept Tom alive. Her problem was that it wasn’t affected by water or fire and she didn’t know any spells that could skewer it or if that would even work.  
“How?” Tom glared at her. His hungry eyes had returned to her face.  
“You really don’t know?” Siria asked in her best impression of Lavender. “Honestly!” She tsked him like a disapproving Hermione. “Tom, for someone who said he was so bright, you’re daft— maybe it’s because you’re only, what? Sixteen?” She mirrored the way Tom had casually stroked her wand with his fingertips.  
The next time Tom looked the least bit distracted, she was going to take the Sorting Hat and Fawkes, run to Ginny, and get them out. Tom’s voice had regained some of his almost lofty composure. It was almost pleasant to listen to him speak. Part of her felt she did agree with his words: they were similar. Both were orphans, bright, raised by Muggles, half-bloods, Parselmouths, and even looked a bit alike. Had Siria been a boy, she would no doubt look even more like Tom as she grew older.  
“Tom, Tom, Tom,” she tsked the way Aunt Petunia sometimes would. “You’re just too young to understand.” Siria hated being told this, possibly even more than when the Dursleys told her not to ask questions. It appeared they had something else in common, which Tom had not been expecting— he hated being told that too.  
“I’m older than you!”  
“Are you really though? In your ghostly thing?”  
“I am a memory!”  
“But you don’t remember why you failed?” Siria shook her head and gave her best eye roll.  
“ENOUGH!” Tom shouted at her. Siria didn’t know what made her do it, but she took to shouting too.  
“WHERE YOU’RE WEAK, I AM STRONG!” Siria bellowed over Tom.  
“I’M GOING TO TEACH YOU A LESSON—” he shouted at her  
“YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A GIT TO TEACH ANYTHING!” she cried over his next sentence  
“LORD VOLDEMORT, HEIR OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN—”   
“MUCH TO SALAZAR’S SHAME!”  
“AGAINST THE FAMOUS SIRIA POTTER”  
“WHO BEAT YOU TWICE AND WILL AGAIN!” She snapped in his face.  
Suddenly, Tom’s voice was quiet. It sent a shiver down her spine. His voice was harsh spits and hisses. Her eyes were drawn to the sound of moving stone, as the jaw of the statue opened. For a fraction of a second, Siria was froze. Without having to see it, she felt the presence of the basilisk. The air felt so damp, like the dungeons. It smelt almost as bad as the skin it had shed.  
On their own, her hands moved. Siria swept the Sorting Hat off the floor. Fawkes took flight and, although Siria wanted to tell Fawkes to stay, she could run better without the phoenix on her shoulder. Faster than she had ever run, Siria sprinted to Ginny’s side in time to hear the body of the basilisk drop to the floor of the Chamber. She pulled Ginny up and half-carried half-dragged Ginny toward the exit. Tom ordered the basilisk “Kill her!”  
Naturally, the basilisk neared her. It could slither faster than she could drag herself and Ginny along. In desperation, Siria plopped Ginny back down, propped up by a wall, and turned back to the basilisk. Her eyes closed, she blindly shot spell after spell as fast as she could: the Full Body-Bind Curse, the Tickling Charm, the Tongue-Tying Hex, and Cauldron Lighting Charm.  
(Book: B2, 318 Siria has to open her eyes because she can hear the basilisk flailing around, and she learns that Fawkes has ripped the eyes of the basilisk out)

If any of her spells had hit, they had done nothing to it. Her heart sank into her stomach. About the only thing her running around and blasting spells had done that she could see, was knock her hair tie out. Siria uncrumpled the Sorting Hat and trust it onto her head. No sooner had she thought about how much she wanted help, it seemed to squeeze her head out of it. Something thudded on her head; it hurt more than Dudley’s Smeltings stick.   
(Book: B2, 319-321 The item turns out to be a sword, which Siria uses to drive into the basilisk when it bites her. She fumbles over to Tom and diary, with the fang and the sword. Fawkes cries onto her wound.)

“I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Siria Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” (B2, 321)  
“You must be so proud” she winced. “Watching two little girls die—” she wrenched the fang from her arm “your greatest accomplishment, since you died trying to kill a baby.”  
His voice came in and out of focus, like a radio that just couldn’t stay connected. Though she was still in pain, Siria felt like it was leaving her. She gripped the sword’s hilt. If she could just slice through him, maybe that would stop him. The more she wondered about it, the less she felt it would work. Tom was connected to the diary. She rested on the blade.  
“But Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…” Tom had been rambling or monologuing (B2, 321); as she had not heard it, Siria couldn’t be sure. Dying didn’t feel so bad. In fact, where things had been getting out of focus, it seemed to be snapping back into clarity.  
Siria let her hand slide off the hilt of the blade and onto the basilisk fang. “Hey, Tom” she locked eyes with him. “Since I’m dying, I may as well tell you the truth” Siria lied. Tom became distracted with her; she could feel him hanging onto her every breath. “The reason you came after me, was because there were rumours…” Siria gave a gasping sigh, as if she were shuddering in pain. Dudley had fake cried similarly dozens of times before; it was the perfect inspiration and Ernie McMillian’s words were the perfect lie.  
“People said…. They said I was going to be the next, great Dark Wizard and that you wouldn’t stand for it.” Through her mane of sweaty, bloody hair she smirked at him. Siria gripped the basilisk fang and dove for the diary. With all her might, she pierced through it. Tom’s face contorted more than Siria had ever seen, even more than Aunt Petunia’s could. It didn’t seem human, but, rather, snakelike.  
(Book: B2, 322 ink pours out of the diary, Tom is destroyed in a fit of screams and writhing)

Breathless, Siria rose to her feet. She stroked Fawkes’s fine feathers. “You are amazing” she assured the beautiful phoenix. “You saved my life.” At the sound of roaring movement, Siria turned on her heal with her wand and Lockhart’s at the ready. “Ron!” She exclaimed in relief at the sight of him, Fred, and George. They all hurried to Ginny, who was stirring.  
(Book: B2, 322-326 with the sword, the Hat, the diary, and the crew [Fred, George, Ginny, Lockhart, Ron & Siria] Fawkes flies them out of the Chamber of Secrets and leads the way to Professor McGonagall’s office)


	18. Dobby’s Reward

**Dobby’s Reward**   


For a moment, there was silence as Siria stood in the doorway with Fred, George, Ginny, Lockhart, and Ron behind her (B2, 327). They were all covered in mud and slime, and Siria had ink, basilisk blood, and her own blood as well. She barely registered that the room was warm and more full than she expected when there was a scream (B2, 327).  
(Book: B2, 327 Mrs. & Mr. Weasley cry out for Ginny, grab her, and hug her. Siria sees Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, and Fawkes flies to Dumbledore)

“Siria....”  
“Sirius” she dropped the sword and fell into her Godfather’s warm embrace. He wanted to scold her for being reckless. She wanted to apologize for worrying him. Neither would do either because they were just so relieved that she was safe. Mrs. Weasley managed to pull Sirius and Siria into their family hug. It was so warm that comfort poured over Siria. Through all the ruckus of hugs and tears, Siria was able to take hold of Ginny’s hand. She gave it a firm squeeze and hoped Ginny knew her nightmare was over.  
(Book: B2, 327-330 Siria explains what happened— where the Chamber was, how they found out where it was, what was in it, & basically everything that caused them to end up in the office. Dumbledore calls for a feast to occur. The petrified people will wake at any moment.)

Fred, George, Ron and Siria gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore (B2, 330). Surely, with Sirius there and them having saved Ginny, he wouldn’t expel them. Ginny was safe. The monster of the Chamber of Secrets was dead. Tim Riddle’s memory had been the only casualty; Siria’s eyes fell on Lockhart who was examining the bookshelf in such a way she felt certain he didn’t remember any of the books on it. He was alive, though, and much more humble. She was tempted to point this out to Professor Dumbledore before expelled them or gave them detentions for the rest of their lives.  
“I remember telling you that, should you break further rules, you will find a fate much worse than your detentions,” said Dumbledore. They had no words for him. Not even Sirius. “Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words. You will each receive Special Awards for Services to the School and— let me think— yes, I think about one hundred points apiece for Gryffindor.” (B2,330-331)  
(Book: B2, 331 Dumbledore learns that Lockhart has lost his memory, and has Ron, Fred, & George take Lockhart to the Hospital Wing. Siria and Sirius stay for Dumbledore to say a few words and answer some of her questions. She learns that her choices are what makes her different— not her abilities. Siria learns she drew the sword of Godric Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat.  
Hagrid will be released from Azkaban & they’ll need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Lucius Malfoy enters with Dobby. Malfoy is upset that Dumbledore is back, Siria realizes the diary belongs to Malfoy. When he leaves, she takes it after him, stuffing it into one of her grimy, dirty socks and thrusts it into Malfoy’s hands. He throws it, Dobby catches it, & Dobby is free. Malfoy lunges at Siria because she lost him his servant. Dobby blasts Malfoy away, Malfoy leaves, Dobby thanks Siria and he leaves.  
It’s the wildest and best feast yet. Exams are canceled, Hagrid is released, Gryffindor gets the House Cup, & Lockhart will not be returning next year)

When the feast finally settled down, Sirius pulled Siria to the side. His warm hand rested on her bloody shoulder. He held up the letter she had left in the common room. Soft, kind grey eyes peered into her troubled green ones. She worried he was mad at her.  
“Sometimes, you are more like James than I’d like,” he confessed. “I understand wanting to help people and even going to save them, but, Siria, you’re…”  
“Too young?” She sighed.  
“No.” He shook his head. “You aren’t too young. You’re plenty old enough to have adventures… I just wish your adventures wouldn’t leave me wondering if you’ll make it home. I am all for you having fun and exploring the castle and the world you thought only existed in books; it would just mean a lot to me, if you would be safe. If Fawkes hadn’t have been there…” but Sirius couldn’t finish that sentence.  
Siria wrapped her bloody sleeves around Sirius. Even now, she wasn’t sorry. She may even be less sorry than when she wrote the letter because she had come out fine. Fawkes had healed her and she felt it would be a long time before Tom could come back. Just like last year, she would get to see Sirius over summer.  
“Before I forget to tell you, I got a call from the Dursleys” a smile broke out across Sirius’s face. His teeth peered out in a childish way. “They’ve got some vacation home in Majorca, and can’t take you until mid July—” Siria fell into laughter. “You still have to spend a week there,”  
“LATER!” She shouted. He swept her off the floor.  
In that moment of being coddled by Sirius, Siria felt peace. She felt she could finally fall asleep. Here, she was safe. Tom was gone, again. He may be back some day, but she would be ready for him. Tonight though, he was far away. Tonight, she was safe. Hogwarts was safe.  
(Book: B2, 340-341 The rest of the term passes in a sunny blur. They board the train to return him. The group learns that Percy thought Ginny was going to tell them about his girlfriend [Penelope Clearwater, who was petrified with Hermione] the train arrives at King’s Cross station)

“Remember, I get the first three and last few weeks at Sirius’s.” Siria said.  
“It’s so weird that you can’t just stay at Sirius’s” Ron told her as they pulled their trunks down.  
“Dumbledore says I have to be welcomed into my mother’s relative’s house or it’ll be easier for Tom to get to me.” Siria said. She and Ron pulled Ginny’s trunk off the train and onto the platform.  
“Are you going to keep calling him that?” Ron asked.  
“Yeah. You’re welcome to call him Voldemort, but that’s what he wanted. He doesn’t want to be ‘Tom’, and I’m going to make a point of reminding him that he can’t always get what he wants.” Just like he wanted to know how she survived and why he came after her in the first place.  
“I like it” Hermione smiled at her. They joined the crowd of people waiting to pass through the barrier.  
“If there’s one thing, aside from fighting, that I’m good at, it’s making people mad” and together they walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world (B2, 341).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 3 will be posted on Tuesday & Thursday starting 2/6/2018. I'm almost done with it & a huge backlog. Sorry for those of you that got 10+ emails of notifications about the chapters being posted today.


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